Flight of Folly
by Azzie - Pyper - O-Gee
Summary: The WWF superstars head on to their next show via airplane. And what do you get when you cram rivals, egos and everybody in general in one place? Right, you got it. Chaos ensues. PG-13 for humor and language.
1. Boarding

Disclaimer: We do not own the WWF. Now wasn't that obvious? We're not making money off this   
so don't sue.  
  
Pyper: Don't people get tired of reading the disclaimer? I mean, it's not like Vince would actually   
start writing and posting up weird stories here like the rest of us. I think he'd be the only one who   
wouldn't need a disclaimer.  
  
Azrael: Fascinating analysis, Pyper.  
  
Pyper: Thank you, thank you.  
  
Azrael: *Sighs.* Anyway, we've written something that our very tired minds suddenly came up with   
at the spur of the moment. Summer vacation and housework does that to you, I guess.  
  
Pyper: We had fun visualizing all these scenes. We hope you will too!  
  
Azrael: As for the whole ban on the actor fic thing and everything else, screw it. We're here to write   
fanfiction, not worry about our limitations. 'Unleash your imagination and free your soul' my ass...  
  
Pyper: *Steps in front of her before she can say anything that would freeze their account.* Well,   
here's the fic. Enjoy!  
  
  
BOARDING  
  
"Welcome on board."  
  
"Right, whatever." Chris Jericho said to the beaming stewardess that greeted him the moment   
he stepped into the plane. He looked less that enthusiastic to be taking the WWF plane to their   
next show.   
  
"May I help you with that?" the still smiling stewardess offered, pointing to his bag.  
He took his hand carry and looked at her. "Sure, here, take this for me." He said, dropping the   
bag, that was about half her size and weight, into her arms. He waved his ticket in her face for   
her to take it as well. "My seat's 7A. Now come on, hurry up, I want to get settled in as soon as   
I can."  
  
"Yes sir. 7A is this way, please." The stewardess said through clenched teeth as she painstakingly   
took the ticket from him and started her way down the aisle carrying the bag, Jericho whistling   
nonchalantly right behind her.  
  
Matt rolled his eyes as he saw Jericho make his way to his seat. "Man, just our luck to be stuck   
with that egotistical has-been for the next three hours."  
  
"Lighten up." Lita said from the seat in front of him. She was kneeling on her seat, her arms   
wrapped around the headrest, chin on top of it. She grinned at him. "Just be happy that we're   
nowhere near his seat for this trip."  
  
Matt sighed as he looked at her. "Speaking of being near somebody, are you sure you couldn't   
persuade Jeff to change seats with you for this flight?"  
  
Lita shook her head. "He didn't want to. Said something about wanting to stick beside his big   
brother as often as he could."  
  
Matt groaned. "Brother my ass. We're together with him for almost every second of everyday.   
Where is he now?"  
  
Lita looked up and around over the seats. "I think he went to the bathroom. Let's hope he's not   
playing with the flush or anything. You know how much he likes those things for some reason."  
  
Matt groaned again.  
  
Somewhere near the back Spike glanced up from where he had been reading the in flight magazine   
that had been left at his seat. Beside him sat Kane, and the Big Red Machine looked not the   
slightest bit comfortable, sitting frigidly in his seat with his hands clenched to his lap.  
  
"Hey Kane, you okay, man?" Spike asked.  
  
"I'm fine." Kane said, sounding like he didn't mean it in the least.  
  
"Are you sure? You look a little uneasy there."  
  
"I said I'm fine." Kane said in the same type of voice.  
  
"Okay, whatever you say, big guy." Spike said turning back to his magazine, but not being able   
to resist shooting him a few worried glances.  
  
At that moment Stone Cold Steve Austin appeared at the entrance. He thoroughly ignored the   
stewardess who greeted him at the door and instead made his way to his seat immediately, which   
was coincidentally on the other side of Kane. He took no notice of Kane or the runt of the   
Dudley litter as he dumped his hand carry to the side of his seat.  
  
"I knew I should have listened to Debra and gone with her on that early flight." Austin practically   
growled to himself. He grabbed his bag and opened it revealing; you guessed it, beer. He took   
out a six-pack, one of the many, and then shoved his bag in the overhead bin.  
  
"Um, excuse me, sir…" one of the stewardesses had caught his cargo and spoke up, going over   
to him.  
  
"What??" Austin snapped. He had been about to sit down and enjoy getting drunk when this   
annoying woman had piped up.  
  
"I don't know how you managed to sneak in alcoholic drinks on the plane, sir, but I'm sorry, it   
is not allowed." She apologized with her best smile.  
  
"Are you telling me I can't drink my beer?" Austin asked in a low voice.  
  
The stewardess faltered for a bit. "Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm saying."  
  
"Well this is what I say." Austin told her. "Get back over there to the front and greet the other   
passengers with that fake plastered smile of yours. Because if I can't go through this freakin'   
flight drunk then you're sure as hell not going to like flying with me sober, is that clear??"  
  
The stewardess lost her smile completely. "Yes sir." She squeaked, and backed away hurriedly.  
  
Across the aisle, Booker T shook his head and went back to reading his magazine as well.  
  
In front of him, Edge was looking at Rikishi, who was at the window seat, as the Phat Man   
tried to find a decent radio station on the plane channels. Edge cleared his throat. "Hey Rikishi,  
can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure, go ahead brother." Rikishi answered, still absorbed in what he was doing.  
  
"Well, you know that planes have tiny bathrooms, right?"  
  
"Everybody does." Rikishi said. "What about them?"  
  
"Don't take this personally or anything, dude, but how in the hell do you actually go in one of   
them when you need to go?" Edge finally asked.  
  
At that Rikishi ultimately looked up. He stared at Edge for a while, then abruptly burst out   
laughing, startling Ivory who was in front of them. "Would you believe you're not the first person   
to ask me that?"  
  
Edge blinked. "I'm not?"  
  
Rikishi shook his head. Then he leaned closer to tell him. "Personally, I try to hold it in. But   
if I really have to go, then I try to shoot it from the doorway as best as I can, if you get what   
I mean."  
  
Edge, probably wishing that he hadn't asked, nodded awkwardly and settled back in his seat.  
  
In the front, the pair of stewardesses who stood there greeting the superstars as they entered   
were met by the one that had 'escorted' Jericho to his seat. Before they could ask her if she   
was all right, somebody stepped into the doorway. All three of them were struck dumb for a   
moment as a large figure towered over them.  
  
Undertaker looked down at the trio in disinterest. Presently one of them cleared her throat   
and gave a shaky smile. "Hello, sir… welcome aboard. May I show you to your seat?"  
  
Taker was chewing on a piece of tobacco. He spat it to one side and held up his ticket. "13G."   
he said.  
  
She took it from him hesitantly. "This way." She said, walking off but glancing behind herself   
fearfully every now and then.  
  
From the front, Maven looked up warily over the top of a newspaper he had hurriedly grabbed   
from a passing stewardess. When he saw that the Dead Man had gone, he breathed a sigh of   
relief.  
  
Taker reached the back of the cabin and looked down in disgust when he saw his apparent   
seatmate for the trip. "What is he doing there?" he asked the stewardess.  
  
"I could move…" Brooklyn Brawler said quickly, standing up.  
  
The stewardess took him by the arm. "I'm sorry sir, but unless there is a no show I'm afraid   
you'll have to stay here in your original seat." She didn't add that she didn't envy him for it.  
  
Taker snarled out something illegible and dropped into the window seat. Brawler tentatively   
slid into the seat beside the Dead Man, as far away as he could manage to be even if he was   
sitting next to him.  
  
In the middle, and probably the only group that got death stares from every single wrestler in   
the Federation, were the nWo. Kevin Nash was in the middle, pretty much asleep already.   
Scott Hall was seated next to him, biting his fingernails. X-Pac was seated on the other side of   
Nash, giving Lita malicious grins that were getting on Matt's nerves.  
  
Fortunately that was stopped when someone slipped into the seat beside Lita, blocking X-Pac's   
view. Hulk Hogan smiled at Lita. "I believe this is my seat."  
  
Lita grinned back, relieved to be rid of X-Pac. "I was wondering who was coming along to claim   
it."  
  
Hogan turned to come face to face with the members of the nWo, his former faction. He   
frowned back at the scowling faces of Hall and X-Pac, as Nash was halfway to total zonkness.   
Just his luck to be situated near those idiots.  
  
"Does the Rock look like he needs any help??" a loud voice said from the front.  
  
Scotty looked up in amusement as the Rock bellowed down on the hapless young stewardess   
that had offered to take his bag from him. Actually, up until that moment he had been snickering   
to the side at seeing that Billy Kidman and Tajiri had been seated on either side of Torrie Wilson.   
All this despite the fact that he was well aware of Albert seated behind him.  
  
Rock took his seat and immediately groaned. "What the…??"  
  
"Hey, Rocky!" Kurt greeted from the next seat. "Can you believe we're seated together again?   
Is this weird or what?"  
  
Rock groaned and wondered who in the hell was messing around with their tickets. This was   
the third ride that he had been seated next to Kurt. Somewhere in the WWF office at Greenwich   
Connecticut, some of the officials snickered.  
  
Trish Stratus looked at the ticket in her hand, and sighed and shook her head as she caught sight   
of the person in the next seat.  
  
Jericho looked up, annoyed. "Is there something you want?" he asked snootily.  
  
"7A?" Trish asked dryly.  
  
"Yeah, and so?"  
  
Trish showed him her ticket. "I'm 7B." she said, not looking too happy about it.  
  
'Great,' Jericho thought as Trish sat down. 'Now I'm seated next to a fluffed-up, airheaded,   
narcissistic, blonde Barbie Doll.' Little did he know, Trish was thinking the same thing about him.  
  
Triple H got to his seat and nearly keeled over in shock. "What the hell…? Mick, what're you   
doing here?"  
  
Foley looked up from writing his latest project and gave him a gap-toothed grin. "I'm here to   
do a little promotion for the company, unknown to Vince, of course." He said. "Not exactly at   
the show, but I could use the lift. You seated here?" he pointed to the empty seat beside him.  
  
Triple H checked his ticket, the number of the seat, and then his ticket again. "Yeah." He finally   
said lifelessly.  
  
"Well how do you like that." Foley said, still with that grin. "Well don't just stand there, make   
yourself comfortable. In fact, I got a little worried there. For a moment I thought I'd have to   
be seated next to Al Snow."  
  
"I heard that." Snow's voice came from the seat behind him.  
  
Foley shrugged. "Wasn't able to avoid having me behind me, though."  
  
Triple H sighed in exasperation but chucked his hand carry in the overhead bin and took his seat.  
  
"First it was that weird little guy Spike, and then the crazy, wannabe superhero." Hardcore   
Holly was grumbling to his cousin seated in the middle of him and Crash. "Who next, the Tough   
Enough rookie??"  
  
"Give me a break, Hardcore." Molly muttered. "Can we just forget about it?"  
  
"And why'd you dye your hair?" Crash asked. "What was wrong with being blonde?"  
  
"Too many of them in the WWF." Molly responded. "And I don't particularly want to be equated   
with those airheads."  
  
Hardcore caught Billy and Chuck giggling to each other in the next row. He sighed. "I think I   
know what you mean."  
  
By that time Hurricane had swooped into the area and took the seat across the aisle from Crash.   
He gave everyone amiable nods before sitting down, acknowledging Molly with frigid politeness.   
She hardly turned her head to him at all. Test, in the window seat beside him, rolled his eyes.  
  
The PA system came on. "Everybody please take your seats." A female voice said. "Take off will   
commence shortly."  
  
"Not short enough." Rock muttered under his breath as Kurt happily buckled himself in.  
  
There was a slight scramble as the superstars took their seats. William Regal found that he   
had been situated in between the APA of all people. Talk about dumb luck. The Godfather   
was near the middle of the rows, with two of his hos on either side of him. The door was about   
to be closed when a shout came.  
  
"Hold up, we're not in yet!!"  
  
The stewardess called for the door to be opened and two people came in, one with a big smile   
on his face. Coachman looked up from his seat. "Mr. Flair?"  
  
"Hello, Coach." Flair greeted. "David and I almost didn't make it here, damned rental car got a   
flat tire on the way." He patted his son on the shoulder.  
  
"Uh, Mr. Flair? I think the executive lounges are somewhere on the second level." Coach said.  
  
"I know." Ric said. "But I didn't want to hang around up there, I like it better down here with the   
rest of the guys. Besides, up there I'd get a bigger chance of seeing Vince, and I don't want to   
hear him whining about how I stole Stone Cold away from him again." He smiled. "Hey, here's   
our seats." He said, gesturing to the front row. He and David sat down.  
  
All in all here was the layout for the superstars' seating arrangement for the duration of the plane   
ride:  
  
13A-G:  
Brock Lesnar, Paul Heyman (aisle), Terri, Raven, crewmember (aisle), Brooklyn Brawler,   
Undertaker  
  
12A-G:  
Jazz, Booker T (aisle), Stone Cold Steve Austin, Kane, Spike Dudley (aisle), Bubba Ray Dudley,   
D-Von Dudley  
  
11A-G:  
Rikishi, Edge (aisle), Rob Van Dam, Michael Cole, Diamond Dallas Page (aisle), Perry Saturn,   
Tommy Dreamer  
  
10A-G:  
Ivory, Goldust (aisle), Ho, Godfather, Ho (aisle), Steve Blackman, Al Snow  
  
9A-G:  
Mr. Perfect, Val Venis (aisle), three members of the creative team (aisle), Triple H, Mick   
Foley  
  
8A-G:   
Jerry Lyn, Justin Credible (aisle), Bradshaw, William Regal, Faarooq (aisle), Jacqueline, Sharmell   
Sullivan  
  
7A-G:  
Chris Jericho, Trish Stratus (aisle), Big Bossman, Big Show, Bull Buchanon (aisle), Billy Gunn,   
Chuck Palumbo  
  
6A-G:  
Test, Hurricane Helms (aisle), Crash, Molly Holly, Hardcore Holly (aisle), The Rock, Kurt Angle  
  
5A-G:  
Christian, Lance Storm (aisle), three crewmembers (aisle), Jeff Hardy, Matt Hardy  
  
4A-G:  
two pyro-technicians (aisle), Scott Hall, Kevin Nash, X-Pac (aisle), Hulk Hogan, Lita  
  
3A-G:  
Mark Henry, Albert (aisle), three more crewmembers (aisle), Steven Richards, Tazz  
  
2A-G:  
Lillian Garcia, Scotty 2 Hotty (aisle), Tajiri, Torrie Wilson, Billy Kidman (aisle), Jonathan   
Coachman, Kevin Kelly  
  
1A-G:  
Jim Ross, Jerry 'The King' Lawler (aisle), Mave, , D'Lo Brown (aisle), Ric Flair, David Flair  
  
By the time everyone was settled in, the door was closed and the lights in the cabin dimmed.   
The plane started to taxi down the runway as an in flight safety video started playing on the   
screens.  
  
Kane gripped the arms of his seat. "Think of big, open spaces, think of big, open spaces…" he   
began to softly chant to himself, still through clenched teeth. Spike gave him a funny look.   
Austin, in the meantime, was already on his third beer.  
  
"This is your captain speaking." A scrambled voice suddenly came on the PA. "Welcome aboard   
to all the WWF superstars. Travel time to our destination is approximately three hours and   
twenty-seven minutes. More probably if the weather report was true about a certain storm,   
hehehe…"  
  
All the wrestlers looked at each other uncomfortably.  
  
"But other than that we'll probably have smooth sailing from here on." Another voice said.   
"This is your co-pilot signing off. We hope you'll have a pleasant flight."  
  
The system went off and the cabin was silent. The plane started to pick up speed, even as   
Spike grew more alarmed at Kane's anxious mumbling and Rock contemplated on whether   
killing Kurt would be beneficial to all. There was a loud rush of wind and the plane's nose tilted   
towards the sky.  
  
In a matter of minutes the plane was airborne.  
  
***  
  
  
Azrael: Can you believe we originally meant for this to be one chapter only? Well, so much for   
that thought.  
  
Pyper: The best parts are yet to come, I assure you.  
  
Azrael: Man, I can't believe we actually wrote that thing with Rikishi. That was just so crude.   
*Goes off to sit in front of her computer and in effect stare at the screen for hours playing   
Bejewled instead of writing the next chapter.*  
  
Pyper: Loved it? Hated it?? Please review! Any flames we will treat as our property and be   
subjected to ridicule! And trust us, that's one thing we do best... *Grin.* 


	2. In the Air

Disclaimer: We do not own the WWF, nor are we in any way affiliated with them, blah, blah,   
blah... you know the drill.  
  
Azrael: Very long chapter alert! I kind of went crazy with this one. I also think that although   
I went overboard, there are still more than a few holes in the entire thing.  
  
Pyper: I thought that we orginally planned to have this at two chapters at the most?  
  
Azrael: Oh shut up. I enjoyed writing this chapter. Of course if you would like to take the   
next one then you're more than welcome to do so.  
  
Pyper: And ruin your fun? I wouldn't dream of it!  
  
Azrael: *Groans.*  
  
  
IN THE AIR  
  
The first thirty minutes of the plane ride had been smooth enough, if you could count out Jeff   
continuously bugging Matt and Kurt continuously bugging Rock. And to think both of them were   
in consecutive seats. Brawler looked like he would piss in his pants any minute and Kane was   
still in his tense state.  
  
William Regal, much to his misfortune, was fidgeting around nervously in between Bradshaw and   
Faarooq. The two big men had at first been contented to smoke their cigars, despite pleadings   
from the stewardesses that it was a non-smoking flight. This changed when Faarooq pulled out   
a deck of playing cards in his back pocket. He plunked them down on Regal's folding table.   
"What do you say, Bradshaw? Up for a game?"  
  
"Hell, why not?" Bradshaw answered. He looked at Regal. "What about you, boy? You want to   
join?"  
  
"Really, I'd rather not." Regal answered stiffly. "But don't let me stop you. You two have your   
fun."  
  
"Oh come on." Bradshaw said as Faarooq began to deal. "Don't be a spoilsport."  
  
"No really, I'd rather sit out of this one, thank you. Besides, I'm not really familiar with the   
rules."  
  
"Is that it, because you don't know how to play?" Bradshaw scoffed with a smile. "Hell, Faarooq   
and I could teach you."  
  
"Yeah, poker's easy." Faarooq told him. "You just listen to us and we'll have you playing like a   
pro in no time."  
  
Letting the APA teach you how to play cards. Not the brightest idea in the book, that's for sure.   
Let's leave Regal to get fed to the sharks and check on the other passengers of this bizarre flight,   
shall we?  
  
Matt groaned as Jeff fidgeted for the nth time since the flight had started. Minutes after take   
off an exhausted Jeff Hardy had fallen asleep on his brother's shoulder. Right now Jeff seemed   
determined to make him a teddy bear, wrapping his arms around Matt and still sleeping peacefully.   
Matt was hoping he wouldn't start sucking his thumb next or something.  
  
Something flashed in front of him. He looked up to find Lita with a camera. "Do you mind, Lita?"   
he snapped. "I have a reputation to think about, remember?"  
  
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist." Lita said with a giggle. "You two just looked so cute!"  
  
X-Pac craned his next from his seat to look at the brothers. He burst out laughing. "Aw, look at   
that." He mocked. "Did you burp him before he went sleepy-bye, Matty?"  
  
"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" Matt told him angrily.  
  
"Uh-oh, I've made the big brother angry." X-Pac said, still snickering. "What you gonna do about it,   
huh? What you gonna do?"  
  
"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do if you don't shut the crap up." Hogan suddenly spoke up, putting   
down his newspaper for a while. "I'm going to beat your ass all over this plane before making you   
change places with Brooklyn Brawler over there in the back. Now watcha gonna do about that,   
brotha?"  
  
X-Pac scowled at him but thankfully shut up. Nash had completely fallen asleep and Hall looked   
like his mind was preoccupied with something else so at that moment he didn't have back up, so   
he thought it best to lay low for a while.  
  
In the meantime, Hall fought the urge to slam his fist on the folding table in front of him.   
"Goddamnit, I need some booze." He muttered to himself. He had tried to bring some in but   
was stopped by some guards. He called for a flight attendant and mustered his best smile.   
"Excuse me. You serve alcohol here, right?"  
  
"Some wine, yes." The stewardess responded pleasantly.  
  
"That's good enough." Hall said. "I'd like a bottle of the finest stuff, please."  
  
Her smile faltered a bit. "Um, Mr. Hall, isn't it?"  
  
"That's right."  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, but all of us are under orders not to give you any alcoholic beverages for   
the duration of the flight."  
  
"What?? Who ordered that??"  
  
"I can't divulge that information, sir. How about a soda instead?"  
  
"Do I look like I want a soda??" Hall snapped. "I want whatever wine or beer you happen to   
have stashed in there!! And I want it pronto!"  
  
"I can't do that, sir."  
  
From two rows back, Hurricane Helms looked up at the noise. "Scott Hall is apparently   
aggravating that flight attendant. Wassupwitdat??"  
"He probably just found out that none of the stewardesses have been cleared to serve him   
beer or something." Test said in a bored voice from the next seat.  
  
"We should stop him." Hurricane said.  
  
"We? Forget it." Test scoffed. "If you want to stick your nose in other people's business and   
get your ass kicked for it then go ahead. But it's not my cup of tea. If you ask me, I say let   
her handle her own problems."  
  
"That is a callous thing to say, Citizen Test."  
  
"Do I look like a give a shit? Now shut up and quit bothering me."  
  
Hurricane shook his head. People were so uncaring nowadays. He looked up to see that the   
stewardess was still being bothered by Hall and couldn't get away. He stood up and walked over.  
  
Hall saw him. "What do you want?" he snapped.  
  
"Scott Hall, this woman has explained why she cannot give you what you have asked for. She   
is just doing her job." Hurricane said.  
  
"Does this look like it concerns you?" Hall said to him.  
  
"I'm just trying to maintain order." Hurricane said. "Although I can suggest another way for you   
to procure the alcoholic drinks you want."  
  
"Really?" Hall's ears pricked up at that. "And how is that?"  
  
Hurricane pointed to the second to the last row. "I believe Citizen Austin has somehow packed   
more than enough beer for himself. If you want to could go and ask if he might spare you some."  
  
Hall frowned at that suggestion. "I think I'll pass." He muttered.  
  
The stewardess gave Hurricane a grateful smile. "Thank you." She said.  
  
"Just doing my duty, ma'am." Hurricane said, prompting Christian to roll his eyes. If Hurricane had   
a hat on he might have actually tipped it too. The superhero turned and went back to his seat.  
  
"Always has to play the hero." Molly grumbled audibly as he sat down. "The big rescuer of damsels   
in distress."  
  
Hurricane sighed, then took out an X-Men comic from his bag and began to read, having nothing   
better to do. Test looked at him and jeered. "You're still reading that kind of stuff? What are you,   
the world's biggest pubescent nerd?"  
  
"It's a hobby." Hurricane said, annoyed, not bothering to mention that his entire collection was   
probably worth some ten grand.  
  
"What the hell do you find so fascinating about that? Aside from the way the women are drawn…"  
  
Hurricane pulled out another issue from his bag. "If you really want to find out you're welcome to   
read any of the others I've brought."  
  
"You think I'm into that kind of crap?" Test scoffed. "Keep your comic books to yourself, you super-  
geek." He turned back to looking outside the window.  
  
Hurricane sighed again and went back to reading.  
  
"Damn, man, sorry Regal, but you lose this round." Faarooq said with a laugh as Bradshaw scooped   
up the money pooled on Regal's table to add to the APA's collection box for lack of a better term.  
  
"Bloody dumb luck." Regal declared, slapping his cards down in frustration.  
  
"Hey, you can always win your money back in the next game." Bradshaw said. "What do you say?"  
  
"But then you'll have to fork over some more betting money." Faarooq reminded.  
  
Regal thought about it, looking at the thick bundle that Bradshaw was counting out. He took out   
his wallet. "Deal." He ordered.  
  
Bradshaw and Faarooq grinned at each other.  
  
Michael Cole watched apprehensively as Rob Van Dam downed his fourth glass of orange juice that   
flight. The normally laid back wrestler seemed to be on edge all of a sudden. And we don't mean   
that Edge. Cole cleared his throat. "Something wrong, Rob?"  
  
"Wrong?" Rob put down the glass and looked at him. "No, nothing's wrong. Why would you say   
that?" he turned to hail a passing waitress. "Can I get another glass of this? Thanks." He said as   
she nodded and left to get him what he ordered.  
  
"You look a little jumpy all of a sudden." Cole said.  
  
Rob drummed his fingers on the fold out table. "Jumpy? In what way?"  
  
"Nevermind, forget I said anything." Cole said, arching an eyebrow before slipping his headphones   
back on.   
  
At that moment the stewardess came back with Rob's fifth glass of orange juice. Cole watched him   
thank her, then proceed to drink it down again. Yup, something was definitely not right about that   
guy tonight.  
  
Speaking of guys not acting right, in the row right behind them, Kane was obviously still suffering   
from apparent aviophobia. Spike was pretty much bothered by it, while Stone Cold seemingly couldn't   
care less, as he had fallen asleep with two empty beer cans in each hand and the rest at his feet.  
  
It was suspiciously quiet until Kane abruptly let out a choked cry. "GET ME OFF THE PLANE!!!" he   
screamed from behind his red mask. He grabbed Spike and Stone Cold by the legs, prompting a   
squeal from the younger Dudley and jolting the Rattlesnake awake. "You hear me?? I SAID STOP   
THE PLANE!!!"  
  
"Goddamnit, boy, get your hand off my thigh!!" Austin roared at him.  
  
"And mine!" Spike shrieked again. His half-brothers looked in amusement from the two seats beside   
him.  
  
Every head in the plane turned to look at them. Austin had dropped his empty cans on the floor and   
was trying to pry Kane's gloved hand from his leg. "Jesus Christ, son, get a GRIP!!" he looked around.   
"Who the crap knew he had a fear of flying and never said anything??" He demanded.  
  
From the back, Undertaker snickered but said nothing.  
  
"Will somebody calm him down!!" Spike screamed.  
  
Four rows up, Jackie sighed and unbuckled her belt. "Here, let me talk to him." She said, standing   
up and going over to them. "Come on, Kane, let go of Spike. Easy now, that's a good boy." She said,   
taking his hand and gently taking it off Spike's leg.  
  
Spike gave a sigh of relief and bolted out of his chair. "You go on and take my seat for a while."   
Jackie said. "I'll sit here with Kane first."  
"Right." Spike said, zipping off down the aisle and dropping into the seat beside Sharmell.  
  
"Hell, ain't no way I'm going to sit next to that crazy idiot." Stone Cold grumbled, kicking his beer   
cans aside as he stood up. He took his bag from the overhead bin and proceeded down the aisle.   
"First fire then this… hey you."  
  
The unfortunate pyro-technician in the fourth row looked up. "Me?"  
  
"Yeah you. We're changing places." Austin said.  
  
"Since when?"  
  
"Since now." Austin said. "Now get your ass up off the seat before I make you." He threatened.  
  
The hapless guy stood up and let the Rattlesnake take his seat. He made his way to Stone Cold's   
vacated seat to find the nearly seven foot Kane snuggling up to the some 5'3 Jackie. Hey, at least   
he was the one who set off Kane's hellfire every night. That had to count as some sort of connection   
between the two of them, right?  
  
Back in the fourth row, Austin popped another beer and proceeded to drink it down. In the seat right   
across the aisle, Scott Hall looked on enviously.  
  
About seven rows back, Rikishi shook his head as he took off his headphones. "Oh man, this sucks.   
Hey Edge, mind if I get out for a while? I'm just going to use the little hommies' room."  
  
"What?" Edge looked alarmed, taking off his own headphones as well. "Wait, dude, you're going to   
go?"  
  
"Yeah, well, I can't hold it in any longer, man." Rikishi said as he stood up.  
  
To Edge's horror, the Phat Man, and we mean really (PH)AT man, stood up and proceeded to try   
and squeeze out of the row despite his massive bulk. "Listen, Rikishi, I can get out of my seat,   
you know, if you just…"  
  
"No, no, don't you worry about it, bro." Rikishi said, shaking his head. "I can do this. Maybe if you   
lean back a bit…" he managed to put one foot past Edge and on the aisle. Edge stifled a scream   
and narrowly managed to hit the recline button. Good thing he did, or he would have been a victim   
of an accidental stink face; even with his seat all the way back, his face was barely two inches from   
Rikishi large behind.  
  
"Whoa, damnit, Edge!" Booker T said from behind him. "Do you mind?? You nearly made me spill   
my drink all over myself!"  
  
"I think he's worried about something else." Jazz said in an amused voice.  
  
"Sorry about that." Rikishi said to Edge, Ivory and Goldust as they all fixed their seatbacks in the   
proper position. Then Rikishi turned and continued to the bathroom.  
  
Edge closed his eyes. 'Aw man,' he thought, 'I sure as hell hope that no one passes by him when he's   
doing his business.'  
  
Faarooq laughed as he held out a hand to Regal. "Too bad, Regal, you lose again. This really isn't   
your day now, is it?" he said. "Now hand over the watch."  
  
Regal scowled in frustration but reluctantly took off his watch and handed it over to Faarooq. Faarooq   
laughed again, then looked over the accessory in appreciation. "Diamond-studded Rolex. Not bad,   
not bad."  
  
"I'll have you know that my great-grandfather gave that to me as a present when he died." Regal told   
him coldly.  
  
"And I'll be sure to give it to my great-grandchild when I die too." Faarooq said as he and Bradshaw   
laughed together.  
  
Regal was about to say something else when Bradshaw spoke up again. "You know, you can win it all   
back again." He said.  
  
"You said that two games ago." Regal said. "You know, I do believe the both of you are swindling me   
out of my money and possibly the very clothes off my back!" he accused them.  
  
"Regal, look at us, would we do that?" Bradshaw said, trying to look innocent.  
  
"You're welcome to join another game." Faarooq said. "Like Bradshaw said, you could win everything   
back, and even more. So what do you say?" by this time he had slipped the watch on and was waving   
it in front of Regal.  
  
Regal thought about it for a minute. "Deal." He growled.  
  
Can you say idiot or what?  
  
Val Venis frowned as Mr. Perfect looked at himself continuously in a hand mirror. "Do you mind   
putting that down?" he said in annoyance. "The light's glancing off it and hitting my eyes."  
  
Mr. Perfect looked at him disinterestedly. "Do you think looking this perfect is easy? I need to check   
up on myself every now and then, you know."  
  
"Perfect?" Venis scoffed with a laugh. "That's a riot."  
  
Mr. Perfect looked at him in fury. "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Nothing." Venis said.  
  
"People don't make that comments for nothing, most especially about me." He said, finally putting   
the mirror down to glare at the person seated next to him. "You don't think I'm perfect? I'm willing   
to bet that any woman in this plane right now would pick me over the likes of, I don't know, say you."  
  
At that Venis' temper flared, but he forced it under control with a smirk. "You're actually interested   
in women?"  
  
"And why is that a surprise??"  
  
"The way you think yourself as so perfect I was beginning to think that you were some self-absorbed,   
gay idiot."  
  
Behind them, Ivory slapped a palm to her forehead. She knew sticking those two together was a   
bad idea.  
  
Mr. Perfect bristled. "Is that what you think??"  
  
"Yeah, that's what I think."  
  
"Then you'll agree to a little wager, won't you?" Perfect said. "The two of us try and woo a any woman   
on this plane. Whoever gets to have her leave with him when we land gets bragging rights on being   
perfect, at least with the women."  
  
"Fine, but on what condition." Venis said.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I pick the woman."  
  
"You're on."  
  
Trish looked up in annoyance as Jericho pressed on the buzzer to summon a stewardess for about the   
thirteenth time in ten minutes. She groaned and spoke up. "Chris, what is it you want now?"  
  
"This cappuccino's too bland." Jericho responded, practically leaning on the buzzer and looking around   
impatiently. "I distinctly said to put in an extra teaspoon of sugar. But did they do that? No…"  
  
A frazzled and very irritated-looking stewardess rushed up to them. "You buzzed?" she said dryly.   
She had been one of the five that had been running back and forth at Jericho's command.  
  
"Yeah, listen, this thing is seriously lacking in taste." Jericho said, handing the cup back to her. "Do   
I look so stupid to as not to notice when you've scrimped on the sweetener? Throw this crap away   
and get a new one." He ordered.  
  
"Right away." The stewardess said, holding back a growl. Trish gave her an apologetic smile as she   
left.  
  
"People are so incompetent nowadays." Jericho muttered.  
  
Trish put down the magazine she had been reading. "I cannot believe you." She said.  
  
Jericho looked up from where he had been trying to locate a decent station on the radio. It was   
hard to find one of those. He took off the headphones. "Did you say something?"  
  
"Yes!" Trish said, exasperated. "I always knew you were an egomaniac but this is taking it a bit   
too far, don't you think?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Jericho asked, looking bored.  
  
"Look at you, bossing people around like you're some kind of God just because you became the   
Undisputed Champion."  
  
"Hey, I happened to defeat both Rock AND Stone…"  
  
"… Cold in one night for it." Trish finished, mimicking him. "Give me a break! Don't you think I   
know the story? I've only heard it like a freakin' thousand times! And the only reason you won   
was because Vince McMahon screwed around with the matches!"  
  
"Gee, I don't know, Trish." Jericho said with a smirk. "I think when it comes to Mr. McMahon and   
screwing stuff, you'd be the expert on that, wouldn't you?"  
  
Trish reeled back with an open mouth, offended at his remark.  
  
In front of them Hurricane looked up, but then went back to his comic book. Test noticed it.   
"Well, aren't you going to see if you could save her dignity too?" he mocked.  
  
Hurricane shrugged. "Ms. Stratus is more than capable of taking care of herself."  
  
On the other side, Kurt was bored. He turned to the Rock, who happened to be on the brink of   
sleep. "Hey Rocky, let's play a game." He suggested.  
  
Rock opened a weary eye. "Kirk, if you hadn't noticed the Rock was in the middle of trying to   
take a nap. Now if you don't want the Rock to take this in flight magazine and shove it straight   
up your candy ass, the Rock suggests that you shut up."  
  
"Oh come on, Rocky, it'll be fun." He said.  
  
"The Rock is serious about the magazine, Kurt."  
  
"We'll play with you, Kurt." A voice said from behind them.  
  
Kurt looked up to see Billy and Chuck grinning down at them. They had stood up from their   
seats and were looking down at the Olympic Hero and the Great One. Kurt, stupidly, grinned   
back at them. "Okay. You guys know any good games?"  
  
"Do we ever." Billy said, still with that same grin.  
  
Alarmed, the Rock looked over to the seats in front of him for help. He found Jeff Hardy   
snuggled up to Matt. He blinked. "What the crap is wrong with you people, is no one straight   
around here anymore??"  
  
"What the fuck was that supposed to mean, man??" Matt snapped.  
  
At that Lita clicked another photo of the brothers. Matt turned a warning glare at her. "Right,   
okay, no more pictures." Lita said. Still grinning, she sat back down on her seat.  
  
A couple of rows behind where Rock was vainly trying to look for a way out of Billy and Chuck's   
twisted perception of 'games,' Triple H was vainly trying to look for a way to get away from   
Foley, who had gotten bored and was actually playing with Mr. Socko.  
  
"Hey Hunter, want to hear about this new book I've been working on?" Foley asked.  
  
"Sure, just put the sock away, okay?" Triple H said, looking warily at it.  
  
Foley shrugged. "Okay." He said. He threw the sock backwards, making it land on top of Al   
Snow's Head, uh, head. "I'm trying to write about my life after the WWF, but so far I've only   
hit three hundred pages."  
  
"And isn't that enough?" Triple H asked.  
  
"Nah, for some reason my publishers want it up to five hundred this time." Foley said. "I haven't   
thought up of a definite title, since I thought that would be kind of premature, but I was thinking   
of 'Away: The Years After Vince McMahon.'"  
  
"Don't you mean the WWF?"  
  
"Yeah, that too."  
  
Way in the back Brooklyn Brawler poked the crewmember across the aisle from him to get his   
attention. "Hey, do you think you could change places with me?" he asked in a whisper.  
  
"Are you kidding??" the crewmember hissed back. "Not in a million years, man."  
  
"I'll pay you a hundred bucks."  
  
"You'd pay me to commit suicide? Do you notice the obvious oxymoron in that?" the crewmember   
scoffed, then went back to looking through a sneak peak of the Divas magazine that for some   
reason he had obtained.  
  
In the front David Flair looked grumpily at his father. "I still don't understand why you turned   
down the executive suite on the second level when it was offered to you."  
  
Ric looked up from a copy of the latest RAW magazine. "Didn't I explain that already?" he said.   
"Being up there means I'd have a bigger chance of seeing Vince McMahon and hearing him bitch   
about me stealing Austin away from him. I really don't want that crap right now, okay? Besides,   
it's not like we're missing much, anyway. If this place is comfortable enough for the other   
superstars then it's okay by us too."  
  
David stood up a bit and looked at the guys around them. Rock was looking sick to the stomach   
as Kurt giggled dumbly with Billy and Chuck. He was also trying to persuade Hardcore Holly   
to change places with him. Brooklyn Brawler looked like he was about to piss in his pants.   
Jericho and Trish were in the middle of a bitch fight, still relatively quiet but would definitely   
escalate. Scott Hall was stealing furtive glances at Austin's beer, which the Rattlesnake was   
guzzling like there was no tomorrow. Regal had lost another game and was handing his coat   
over to Bradshaw. X-Pac was trying to peek around Hulk Hogan to ogle Lita. Kane was still   
cuddled up to Jackie and wouldn't let go, but at least he was pacified. Tajiri and Kidman were   
shooting death looks around a nervous Torrie. Rikishi still hadn't come back from the bathroom.   
Test was trying to control his urge to read over Hurricane's shoulder.  
  
David sighed as he sat down. Comfortable? Yeah right. It was going to be a long flight.  
  
***  
  
  
Pyper: Aviophobia. Hey, there's my new word for the day.  
  
Azrael: Actually, there's also a fear of flying that's termed pteromerhanophobia. I wonder why.  
  
Pyper: *Let's this sink in.* I'll stick with aviophobia. It's easier to pronounce, not to mention   
remember.  
  
Azrael: *Rolls her eyes.* We hoped you enjoyed this chapter as well. I know it's a little confusing,   
considering that we crammed all these stars with their own little quirks and rivalries in one place.   
And I just like sticking Kurt with Rock. I think it's still a hangover from - shameless plug alert -   
The Fellowship of the Squared Circle, I Mean Ring.  
  
Pyper: Hey, we're doing a chapter on Vince, right? Where he's in the executive lounge with...  
  
Azrael: *Cuts her off by clapping a hand over her mouth.* Shut the crap up, idiot. Don't give the   
rest of the plot away.  
  
Pyper: *Muffled.* Mmmph!!  
  
Azrael: Please review!!! 


	3. The Executive Suite

Disclaimer: We own jack. Don't sue.  
  
Azrael: Pyper? *Looks around.* Pyper!! *Nothing.* PYPER!! *Still nothing.* What a time to bail   
out on me. Leave me to write this blasted third chapter alone, huh? Thanks for nothing, you   
freak!! *Shrugs.* Well, this is blessedly a lot shorter than the last chapter. Hey, you can only do   
so much with just three people. Enjoy.  
  
  
THE EXECUTIVE SUITE  
  
We've already seen how crazy and completely uneasy it was in the main cabin. Suffice to say, it   
wasn't all peaches and cream up in the executive suite either. Ric Flair had made a good decision   
on staying downstairs. For the moment, at least.  
  
Stephanie was seated on the couch, sulking at her dad. Yeah, the Princess was there. And she   
definitely was not happy. No one could blame her. For one thing, Vince had made it a point to   
bring along his new personal assistant, Stacy Kiebler.  
  
Vince was not a happy man either. He had not counted on having his daughter there. Now his   
plans of being alone in the suite with Stacy had been ruined. Thank God. You think we wanted   
to write about that?   
  
At that moment Stacy had been sent out of the room first to the next suite, the one that Ric Flair   
had turned down. Father and daughter were left to have a hearty chat.  
  
Okay, so not really.  
  
"What is SHE doing here??" Stephanie demanded in a painful voice. Then again, her voice was   
always painful.  
  
"I could ask the same thing about you." Vince said to her sternly.  
  
"Last I checked I was still a McMahon!" Stephanie declared. "And just because Hunter made some   
stupid stipulation in a match it doesn't mean that I can't take this plane whenever I need to as well!"  
  
"'Need to?' Where do you 'need to' go, Stephanie?"  
  
"Wherever the WWF is and you are." Stephanie whined.  
  
Vince sighed. He knew it had to come to this.  
  
Stephanie began sobbing. "This divorce is taking it's toll on me, daddy." She sniffled. "Can you   
blame a daughter for wanting to stick close to her daddy during such a hard time? You know   
you're the only one in the family who understands me, daddy. I hardly ever see mom anymore,   
and Shane is never around either. He's always busy with that little wife of his…"  
  
"Oh I know, Princess." Vince said, sitting on the couch with her and taking her in his arms. "I'm   
sorry for yelling at you. You know you're always welcome here anytime you want."  
  
Stephanie sniffled some more for emphasis, but she grinned inwardly. Men were such suckers for   
tears.  
  
Vince actually meant what he was saying. The thing is, he was refraining from saying, 'Anytime   
but now.'  
  
Suddenly Stephanie remembered something and she abruptly sat up, breaking out of her father's   
embrace. "Wait a minute, you never answered my question." She accused.  
  
"And what was that?"  
  
"Then let me repeat it for you." Stephanie said, standing up with her hands on her hips. "What   
is that blonde AIRHEAD you sent in the next room doing here??"  
  
"Now Stephanie, that's no way to talk about her." Vince said in a reprimanding tone of voice.  
  
"I'm sorry. And how would you like me to address her? Skank? Ho? Money-grubbing little bitch?"  
  
She had a point. Of course she also seemed to overlook the fact that Any of the above she   
mentioned could also be adequate adjectives to describe herself.  
  
Vince, being her father, didn't point that out. "She is my personal assistant, Stephanie he said,   
standing up and giving her a warning glare.  
  
"Oh I'm sure." Stephanie scoffed. "How personal?"  
  
"Now that's…"  
  
"Oh come off it, daddy." Stephanie burst out. "I saw the interviews you conducted on Smackdown!   
I saw how she presented her so-called 'qualifications!'" she said. "In fact, millions of viewers   
worldwide saw it!"  
  
"My business is my business." He said to her sternly.  
  
"Right, dad." She said with a mocking smile. "So how's business?"  
  
Vince lost all his cool. He got on that really weird, practically satanic look whenever he had reached   
his peak in anger. "All right, listen here, Stephanie. I'm your father. I've raised you for twenty-  
four years, and I've given you everything you've ever needed for all of them. But when it comes   
to my personal matters, I suggest you stay out of it!"  
  
"I thought that you just said it was business." Stephanie smirked.  
  
Vince was cut off from yelling at his daughter when the door opened. Stacy Kiebler poked her head   
in. "I'm sorry Mr. McMahon, but I was getting impatient in the next room and I heard loud voices.   
Is something wrong?"  
  
Stephanie looked incredulously at her. "Oh, you think something's wrong??" she said sarcastically.   
"No, nothing's wrong. What makes you think that?"  
  
"Oh, I see…" Stacy said slowly.  
  
"Stacy, please come in." Vince said, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. His daughter could really   
be a pain.  
  
Stacy stepped inside the room, showing off her long, long, and I mean long legs. She looked warily   
at Stephanie, who scowled at her. She had been as annoyed as Vince when his precious little   
daughter had shown up. Talk about pulling the plug on her pulling some moves on the boss.  
  
"Listen, Stacy, I think I'm getting a headache." Vince said. "Would you mind running outside the   
room and getting me a glass of water?"  
  
Stacy looked a little annoyed at being ordered to get something, but she gave a smile nonetheless.   
"Of course."  
  
She was about to go back out of the room when Stephanie's voice stopped her. "No daddy, why   
don't you go get it yourself." Vince's daughter said. "I want to have a few words with your personal   
assistant here."  
  
Vince smelt trouble. "No, Stephanie…"  
  
"It'll be fine, daddy." Stephanie said, giving him a bright smile. "Stacy and I will just have a chat,   
that's all."  
  
Vince still looked unsure.  
  
"GO." Stephanie said in a loud voice. She immediately dropped it a notch a second later and gave   
that sweet smile again. "Please, daddy."  
  
Vince sighed. "Okay." He said, giving in. He went over to the door and opened it. "But only a   
few words, Stephanie." He warned his daughter. "I'll be back soon." He left and shut the door   
behind him.  
  
The moment it closed tight the two women left inside the room turned dagger-sharp glares at   
each other. Stephanie had her lips pursed up in that classic sneer with her arms crossed at her   
augmented breasts. Stacy had her arms on her hips and had her Hancock-bitch stare on.  
  
"All right, let's cut the crap, Kiebler." Stephanie snapped. "We both know why you're leeching on   
to my dad and frankly I don't like it."  
  
"Is that so?" Stacy scorned. She tossed her hair back. "Well I hardly think that there's any way   
you'll be able to stop me. You're off WWF programming, remember?"  
  
"A minor setback." Stephanie replied. She immediately shrugged it off. Now she was starting   
to sound like that Green Hurri-dork. She turned to look back at Stacy. "I'm still the daughter,   
bear that in mind. All I have to do is say that word and I'm back on top again."  
  
"On top of who?"  
  
"Why you…" Stephanie gave a cry and tackled the taller blonde head on. Stacy squealed but fought   
back, managing to get on top of the other woman. They rolled around a bit in a bizarre catfight;   
bumping into furniture, pulling hair, screaming obscene curses, the whole enchilada.  
  
Fortunately, or unfortunately, however way you want it, the door opened and Vince walked back   
in with his glass of water. He saw the commotion going on and let out a yell, promptly spilling his   
drink. "What are you two doing???"  
  
Both women on the floor stopped. There was nothing glamorous about the two of them anymore;   
their clothes were ruffled and their hair was in complete disarray. Stacy way too short skirt had   
hiked up almost all the way to her hip and she pulled it down hastily.  
  
Vince was glowering over the both of them. "I leave you both for two minutes and then come   
back here to see you trying to rip each others throats out!"  
  
"She started it!" Stephanie accused, pointing a finger at Stacy.  
  
"I did not!" Stacy shot right back.  
  
"Enough!!!" Vince cut in. He pointed out the door. "I definitely think that you two should be   
separated. Stephanie, you go to the next room, right NOW."  
  
Stephanie had stood up. "But daddy!" she tried to protest, but Vince would not hear any of it.  
  
"I said GO. And I mean it." Vince said.  
  
Stephanie looked like she was about to say something else, but another glare from Vince stopped   
that. She grabbed her bag and, giving Stacy one last nasty glare, she stalked out of the room   
with a pout on her face.  
  
The door slammed shut behind her. Stephanie fumed and turned to make faces at the door,   
but then she straightened her shirt and stomped off the to the next room. Once there she   
banged the door shut behind her.  
  
Stephanie threw her bag down on the couch then sat down on it in a huff. She drummed her   
fingers on her arm for a bit and felt she was about to go insane when she heard something.   
She lifted her head and listened.  
  
"Damn, look what I did to my water. Stacy, can you go get a stewardess to clean this mess up   
and then bring me back another glass?" it was Vince's voice. "I have a really bad headache   
building up and I need to take a tablet or something."  
  
"Oh Mr. McMahon, the mess can wait." Stacy's voice. "If you have a headache, then I have a   
better idea. Sit down and let me massage your head for you."  
  
Stephanie's mouth opened in a disgusted and incredulous 'O' as she listened in on their little   
conversation. She looked around and spotted a vent in the corner. Making her way over, she   
leaned down and strained more to catch what they were saying.  
  
"Wow, you really are good with your hands, Stacy."  
  
A giggle. "I get better."  
  
This was just gross. Stephanie ran back to get her bag before going back to where the vent was.   
She pulled out a tape recorder she had stored there for some reason, don't ask us why. A smile   
crossed her face as she turned it on. Her daddy would definitely have to get her back into WWF   
programming now, unless he wanted Linda to get a copy of the tidbit she had right there.  
  
She loved being herself.  
  
***  
  
  
Azrael: Well look who decided to show up.  
  
Pyper: *Rubbing eyes and looking around blearily.* Oh, did you post the next chapter up already?  
  
Azrael: Yes. No thanks to you.  
  
Pyper: Cool. *Yawns.* What do we have up next?  
  
Azrael: I was thinking an in-flight movie.  
  
Pyper: What movie?  
  
Azrael: I haven't gotten that far yet. Got any suggestions?  
  
Pyper: *Looks blankly into outer space for a minute, as if tryign to look like she's actually thinking.   
Moments later she shakes her head.* Nah. I'm out. *Turns to you, the reader.* If you guys have   
any ideas, please review an tell us! Preferably anything with a lot of plane crashes and death in it   
too... *Grins.* 


	4. In-Flight Movie

Disclaimer: We don't own the WWF or the movies The Scorpion King and Final Destination. Well that   
was obvious, let's move on...  
  
Pyper: LITA!!!!!! *Cries.*  
  
Azrael: So she'll be out for six to nine months, huh? *Whistles.* Neck injuries can really be a bitch.  
  
Pyper: Speaking of being out for a really long time, we're not dead. We've just been really preoccupied   
with other things.  
  
Azrael: Meaning we ran out of ideas and started slacking off.  
  
Pyper: They didn't need to know that.  
  
Azrael: I can't help it, I'm an honest person.  
  
Pyper: *Mutters.* Yeah right.  
  
Azrael: Here's our long overdue chapter. Enjoy.  
  
  
IN-FLIGHT MOVIE  
  
So much for the executive suite, let's head back to the main cabin.  
  
"WHORE!"  
  
"DICKHEAD!"  
  
"CONCEITED MORON!"  
  
"GREEDY BITCH!"  
  
Hurricane winced with every insult thrown by the two blondes settled in the seats behind him. Jericho   
and Trish had been yelling at each other for the past half-hour, first with quiet putdowns and insults   
that had escalated into rude one or two-worders. He considered coming in between them. Then he   
thought about it and decided against it. He did not want to have to face the wrath of those two.  
  
But if anyone asked why he had kept quiet, he would reason that they needed to straighten out their   
own differences without his help. Yeah, that sounded good.  
  
He suddenly became aware of a presence at his shoulder. He turned to find Test reading over his   
shoulder, although he immediately looked away the moment Hurricane did, trying to feign disinterest.   
Hurricane sighed and shook his head.  
  
"I gotta use the bathroom." RVD suddenly mumbled aloud. He fumbled around with his belt and slid it   
off, then stood up to head for the john.  
  
Michael Cole took his headphones off and turned to look at DDP. "Hey Page, I know this is a weird   
question to ask, but have you noticed that Rob's been acting kind of funny since the plane took off?"  
  
"In what way?" Page asked.  
  
"Well, he's been all fidgety; drumming his fingers on the table, bouncing his leg up and down, looking   
around all the time." Cole said. "What do you think?"  
  
"Maybe he's just working out some stress." Page said. He flashed a smile. "And since it doesn't seem   
to be a bad thing, then it's definitely a good thing."  
  
Cole stifled a groan and went back to listening to the music.  
  
Meanwhile, Rob had made his way to the back of the cabin to get to the restroom. He turned and   
was about to go in when he bumped into someone that was obviously much larger than he was. "Ow!   
What the…?"  
  
"Hey, who is that?" a familiar voice asked.  
  
Rob looked up. "Rikishi?" he asked. "What're you doing hogging up the entrance to the bathroom?"  
  
The Phat Man gave a sheepish chuckle. "I'm not doing this intentionally, believe me, dude."  
  
"Then what the hell are you doing it for?"  
  
"Well, I'm kind of, uh… stuck."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me. I'm stuck."  
  
Rob blinked in incredulity for a while, then looked the situation over. Rikishi had somehow fitted one   
half of his body through the door, but that was as far as it would go and, unfortunately, would not   
back out again. Rob gave a low whistle. "No shit." He said finally.  
  
"Is that all you can say?" Rikishi snapped sourly.  
  
"Well, I could laugh, but I don't think you'd appreciate that."  
  
"Very funny. Now could you give me a hand?"  
  
Rob clapped politely.  
  
"Getting funnier. Haha, I'm splitting my side with laughter." Rikishi said in a deadpan sort of voice.   
"Now do you mind?? Help me out here!"  
  
Rob stretched his arms for a bit, then grabbed Rikishi by the jacket and started to pull. He had given   
three huge heaves when he dropped his hands and leaned on the opposite wall with a groan. "Bullshit,   
man, you're really stuck."  
  
"You think??" Rikishi said.  
  
"I'll go for another try." Rob said. He took hold of Rikishi's jacket again and pulled. He was still heaving   
and tugging with all his might when a surprised noise behind him stopped him dead in his tracks.   
"Rob, what the hell are you doing?"  
  
Rob turned to look into the stunned face of Bubba Ray Dudley. The Dudley brother gaped back at   
him. "Is that Rikishi? Christ, are you two doing what I think you're doing…?"  
  
"What??" Rob asked, then he shook his head. "No! No, come on, that's gross, man!" he said staunchly.   
"I don't even know how you can stand there and say it in such a straight face, I mean, ew…!"  
  
"Yeah, that really ain't funny!" Rikishi yelled from where he was stuck at, hearing Bubba's voice.  
  
Actually, you couldn't blame the poor guy. If you had seen the weird scene of Rob trying to pull   
Rikishi out of the bathroom from the back, it would have looked like… nevermind, maybe we should   
just skip the descriptions for that part and get on with the story.  
  
"Okay, I get the point." Bubba said, not used to seeing the normally cool Rob Van Dam get so   
flustered. "But what's going on?"  
  
"If you must know, I'm stuck." Rikishi's disgusted voice came.  
  
"You're stuck??"  
  
"Didn't you hear me the first time?"  
  
If a while ago Rob was probably too polite to laugh, Bubba did it for him. He threw back his head   
and started laughing his guts out, even leaning on the wall for support. "Wholly shit, that is just   
messed up!"  
  
"Hey Rob, check it out, he's as funny as you are." Rikishi said dryly.  
  
"How'd you get stuck in the first place?" Rob asked suddenly.  
  
Rikishi sighed. This was probably the weirdest position to ever tell a story in. "I went to take a   
leak, and I was trying to do it really fast from the outside. But then a stewardess passed by and   
I tried to push myself inside more so she wouldn't see what I was doing. Before I knew it, I was   
stuck."  
  
"Didn't you ask her for help?" Rob asked, then he shook his head. "Nevermind, even I know the   
answer to that question."  
  
"So are you two jokers going to get me out of here or are you just going to stand there laughing?"   
Rikishi asked impatiently.  
  
"Are those our only options?" Rob joked.  
  
Bubba shoved him. "Not funny, man, I gotta go. Here, I'll give you a hand."  
  
Why he didn't just use the bathroom up near the front we probably will never know. But we'll   
get back to them later.  
  
The PA system came on again. The same static voice came out. "Hello again, this is your captain   
speaking. Right now we are flying a couple of thousand miles above the ground, can't tell for sure   
exactly how high we are, though. All these levers and buttons and screens are really confusing me,   
I tell you."  
  
Kane whimpered and clung on tighter to Jackie.  
  
"So far there's been no trace of that storm, so we ought to be all right for the next hour or so.   
But we know all of you back there are probably bored close to tears by now, I know we are.   
Christ, plane rides can be such a drag…"  
  
David flashed his father a worried look. "What kind of a pilot talks like that?" he asked. Ric   
merely shrugged and went back to reading his newspaper.  
  
"So what better way to occupy your time than with an in-flight movie? Yay!" there was a sound   
of a muffled smack and then hushed but angry words exchanged, then the 'captain' came back on.   
"Right, I have been told by my co-pilot to get serious and stop weirding all of you out. So here's   
your movie. Enjoy."  
  
At that the lights dimmed in the main cabin. From his seat in the fifth row Jeff yawned and   
stretched, nearly putting his brother's eye out. He looked around. "How long have I been asleep?"  
  
"Around an hour at the most." Lita responded, as Matt was too annoyed to talk to his brother at   
that moment.  
  
"Oh." Jeff said. He saw the screens in the cabin come on. "Hey, is there going to be a movie?   
Cool. What picture are they showing?"  
  
The screens flickered on, and to everyone's surprise the picture fizzed for a bit. Then it showed   
Sean William Scott looking outside a large glass window of an airport at a plane that had apparently   
just taken off. Devon Sawa and Jason Kerr were brawling around in the background. Split seconds   
later the plane exploded, completely obliterating anyone and everything that had been on board.  
  
Kane let out a choked scream. The pyro-technician beside him nearly jumped out of his seat,   
causing Booker to give him a weird look. Jackie fought to control the Big Red Phobic while   
Undertaker shook his head from the backseat.  
  
The PA system came on yet again. Tazz shook his head and rolled his eyes.  
  
"Hehehe… just playing with you guys there." The pilot said. "We slipped that thing in by accident."  
  
"Yeah right." Christian muttered.  
  
"Here's the real deal." Then the system went off again.  
  
Suddenly the film started and the title flashed across the screens. There was an immediate   
collective groan from most of the superstars seated in the main cabin. On screen in big letters   
it showed: The Scorpion King.  
  
"Oh come on!" Jericho yelled, standing up from his seat, breaking off his fight with Trish Stratus   
for a moment. "We already have to put up with that ass clown during shows and tapings, do we   
have to see him prance around on the big screen too??"  
  
Beside him, Trish shook her head in disgust and stood up to go to the bathroom.  
  
Insulted, the Rock shot to his feet. "The Rock happened to do very well in that movie, jabroni!!   
In fact, the Rock would like to see you do better!"  
  
"Right, like I'd really kill to parade around in leather rags and something akin to a loincloth! The   
only thing you did was swing a sword around and try to look cool! If that Kelly Hu babe hadn't been   
around the movie might have been a total bust!"  
  
"Big words coming from the moron whose little band is only known because of your appearance in   
wrestling! What's it called again, Fonzy??" Rock mocked.  
  
"It's FOZZY, you schmuck!" Jericho yelled back at him. "And for the last time, I am not Mongoose   
McQueen!!!"  
  
Rock smirked. "The Rock never said you were."   
  
"Yeah, but you implied it." Jericho shot back.  
  
"Will you two both shut up??" Austin suddenly yelled out loud. "It's already started and I haven't seen   
this goddamn movie yet! Now this stars who again?"  
  
Rock, Jericho and a majority of the other stars in the cabin turned to look at him incredulously.   
Austin noticed it and looked around at all of them. "WHAT??"  
  
Maven had had enough of this and went to go to the bathroom.  
  
"I guess sometimes it pays to be blissfully drunk." Kevin Nash said dryly. Like Jeff he had woken   
up a few minutes before the movie proper started.  
  
"Don't remind me, don't remind me!" Hall groaned from beside him.  
  
On screen, the Rock as Mathayus lifted his hood to show his face. Austin promptly spat out the   
gulp of beer he had taken from possibly his tenth can of beer, spraying Albert who was in front   
of him. "Goddamnit, what is that blasted sonofabitch doing in the goddamn movie??"  
  
"It's The Scorpion King, you dead drunk!" Undertaker finally yelled out in frustration from the last   
seat. "The WWF's only been promoting it for the last twelve months! Jesus, where the hell have   
you been that you didn't notice it??"  
  
Austin stood up, leaning on the headrest of his seat. "You wanna come over here and say that,   
dumbass??" he threatened, slurring his words a bit. Hey, after all those cans you didn't expect   
him to still be somber, did you?  
  
Taker stood up as well, nearly throwing Brooklyn Brawler out of his own seat. "Why, you think   
that in your state you can handle me, boy??"  
  
D'Lo Brown shook his head and went to go to the bathroom.  
  
"Hell yeah, plus blindfolded with one hand behind my back and the other hand giving you the   
finger." Austin declared, flashing him a one-finger salute.  
  
Ric Flair had apparently had enough. He stood up and glared angrily at the four bickering wrestlers.   
"Save your energy for the ring!" he yelled. "I won't have the four of you breaking out into a brawl   
in a space as small and as dangerous as an airplane!"  
  
"We wouldn't have to be listening to all that if you had just taken the executive suite." David   
muttered from beside him.  
  
"For the last time, David, we are staying here and that's final!" Ric said to his son.  
  
"Hey, that's my line!" Mick piped up from somewhere in the back.  
  
"All right, any one from you four who starts yelling again is immediately suspended for six months   
without pay!" Ric threatened.  
  
"We're not under you." Jericho said, referring to himself and the Rock.  
  
"Yeah, but you will have my boot implanted in your ass if you don't sit down and shut up!" Flair   
yelled at him.  
  
"But you just said…"  
  
"SIT!!!!"  
  
The Rock raised an eyebrow and Jericho looked like he wanted to argue more, but one look at   
Flair's face, flushed bright red from anger, made then slowly take their seats. The last thing   
they needed was for the co-owner of the WWF to burst a blood vessel here in the cabin.  
  
And so the superstars were forced to sit down and watch through the movie. This time, it was   
Matt who fell right to sleep. Jeff, not wanting to be used as a pillow, despite what he did to   
Matt earlier, got up to go to the bathroom.  
  
The sight that greeted him hit him with a wave of shock. Standing in a line in front of the   
bathroom was D'Lo Brown, Maven, Trish, Bubba Ray and RVD. And to matters more interesting   
they had their arms around the waists of the person in front of them, apparently pulling with   
all their might.  
  
Jeff went to stand beside the line and look at them. "Nice grip." He said to Maven, who had his   
arms around Trish's waist.  
  
"Funny." Trish said irritably at him. At that moment Chuck appeared, also seemingly needing   
to use the john as well.  
  
"Would it be a good idea to ask what's going on?" Jeff asked, an amused grin on his face.  
  
Everybody stopped to take a breath. Rob turned to look at him. "We have a little emergency   
here that refuses to be unstuck." He explained vaguely.  
  
"What?" Jeff asked.  
  
"I'm stuck, brotha!" Rikishi's voice came from the doorframe of the tiny bathroom.  
  
"So grab on and lend a hand." D'Lo said.  
  
Jeff thought about it, then looked to see Chuck grinning at him, knowing he would be behind   
Jeff. The younger Hardy brother shuddered. "Uh, so he's been stuck there for how long?"  
  
"He has been for the past thirty minutes." Bubba said. He looked at the people behind him.   
"And everyone else out here really has to go, I tell you."  
  
"Why don't you guys use the bathroom up front, then?" Jeff asked, jerking his thumb to the   
front of the plane.  
  
All of them looked at him, then at each other. A split second later they scrambled out of the   
area and hurried off for the front of the plane.  
  
"Hey, wait, where you guys going??" Rikishi yelled hysterically. "I'm still stuck here!! Help me!!   
Hello???"  
  
Jeff snickered. He was about to go and see what he could do to help Rikishi when somebody   
came up behind him. He turned to find Edge. "Hey man, what's up?"  
  
"I got a little worried about Rikishi; he's been gone for ages." Edge confessed. He looked in the   
direction of the bathroom. "I guess I was right to be."  
  
"Edge, that you?" Rikishi asked. "Dude, help me out here!"  
  
"Got any ideas?" Jeff asked.  
  
Edge rubbed his chin and thought about it. "I'll be right back." He said.  
  
"Hang on, Edge seems like he's got a plan." Jeff said.   
  
They waited for a bit until they heard footsteps heading their way. "He better not have called   
any flight attendants." Rikishi groaned.  
  
"Better." Edge said, coming up and catching his last statement. He grinned as he let his   
companion through. "Here's our problem, Show. Think you can lend us a hand?"  
  
The Big Show scrutinized the situation, before finally letting out a laugh that was as big as he   
was. "You weren't kidding when you said this was an emergency." He said to Edge between   
snickers. "Sorry Rikishi, but I just got to laugh at this."  
  
Rikishi shrugged. "It's been going on for thirty minutes. I'm immune to it by now."  
  
"You see, this is why I went three times before we boarded the plane." Show said with a grin.   
He stretched then grabbed onto Rikishi. Jeff and Edge got out of the way as the former   
Giant gave one huge pull…  
  
And Rikishi popped out of the doorway like a cork. Big Show, surprised, stumbled backwards   
and lost his balance. The two big men gave a yell and went crashing to the floor, causing the   
plane to jolt a bit.  
  
Kane gave a small squeal from his seat. Matt was jerked awake and everyone looked around,   
panicked. That's what you got for showing that clip of Final Destination earlier.  
  
The movie stopped for a bit as the PA system started again for the third time in this chapter.   
"What in the crap was that??" came the static voice of the pilot.  
  
"They don't know what's going on??" JR said in an incredulous voice.  
  
Suddenly Edge ran back to the main cabin. "Everybody, everything is fine." He said in a calm   
voice and that ever-present grin. "In fact, a crisis has been taken care of." He shook his head;   
he sounded like the Hurricane now. "You guys have go nothing to worry about." He reassured.  
  
"Better be." The pilot muttered. The system went off.  
  
After the general scare had lifted and Rikishi and Show had taken their seats, the movie   
resumed again, much to the displeasure of some. Those who had taken unusually long bathroom   
breaks had come back as well. Things went on as best as they could for the most of the movie.  
  
***  
  
  
Azrael: For the record, we liked The Scorpion King.  
  
Pyper: Yeah, we thought the Rock rocked. No pun intended.  
  
Azrael: Anyway, an update looks pretty far in the horizon to me, I've become quite addicted to   
my Playstation yet again. Maybe that's why mom and dad won't buy me a PS2...  
  
Pyper: Or an X-Box.  
  
Azrael: Yeah, don't remind me. *Goes off to grumble about not having been able to play Smack-  
down! 3 and RAW is WAR yet.*  
  
Pyper: See you when we update! Peace out! 


	5. Turbulence

Disclaimer: We do not own the WWE, nor are we in any way affiliated with it. We are not   
doing this for profit, although if anyone would wish to pay us, then we have no complaints   
about that either...  
  
Azrael: Will you look at that? We don't update this story for a little over two months and   
suddenly the WWF decides to change its name. Man, that's just wrong.  
  
Pyper: Why couldn't they and the World Wildlife Fund just get along? *Flashes cheesy smile   
with a peace sign.*  
  
Azrael: *Gives her a weird look and shakes her head.* Well, we're back.  
  
Pyper: We're really sorry about neglecting this story, and any others that we have! We'll   
promise to do better! Scout's honor!  
  
Azrael: Pyper, can it. And you're not a scout, and you've never been one.  
  
Pyper: They didn't have to know that!! *Stalks off with a scowl on her face.*  
  
Azrael: Well, here's the fifth chapter. I'll be back to school by tomorrow, so it's going to be   
hard updating after that. I'll see what I can do. As for Pyper, she has a couple of more days   
left, so if she wants to take the reigns then no problem... I'll just have to see if I can catch   
up to her first. Enjoy the chapter!  
  
  
TURBULENCE  
  
The movie was still ongoing. A bunch of superstars had fallen asleep, most of them the ones   
who had seen it already. Jericho had dozed off, much to the stewardesses' relief. At least   
they would be given a break from his incessant demands. Matt was asleep too, despite the   
fact that Jeff was sipping a glass of soda via a straw and making slurping noises in the process.   
Triple H would have zonked out too, if Mick hadn't insisted on talking to him every minute.   
Stone Cold, regardless of not having seen the movie yet, was out like a light, finally suc-  
cumbing to his beer that Hall was now in the process of eyeing.   
  
"Are you okay, sir?" a stewardess politely asked, stopping in front of the Brooklyn Brawler.  
  
"I'm fine." Brawler managed to say.  
  
"Are you sure? Can I get you anything?"   
  
"I'm fine." He repeated in that same voice.  
  
She nodded and turned to his seatmate. Her smile faltered the tiniest bit. "How about you,   
sir? Can I get you…"  
  
"No." Undertaker said sharply, not even turning to look at her.  
  
"Okay, if you need anything, just buzzer!" she said, then quickly left, darting furtive glances   
at the Undertaker as she did, as if afraid that Dead Man was going to step out and bite her.  
  
Brawler swallowed nervously as he tried not to move. At least she could get away. He was stuck   
there. He also probably hadn't realized that he had been blinking 'Help me' in Morse Code all the   
time that she had been there.  
  
Mr. Perfect tapped the armrest of his seat in annoyance. In the row behind him, the Big   
Valbowski was doing quite a good job of charming one of the hos that the Godfather had with   
him. She was the woman that they had settled on wooing to see who could actually leave with   
her when the flight was over. Right now, it seemed that Val was doing much better than he   
was.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Godfather get up to go to the restroom up front.   
Making sure Val didn't notice, Perfect stood up and followed him.  
  
Godfather was about to open the restroom door and proceed to relieve himself when someone   
tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around irritably. "What?"  
  
"Hey, Godfather, I have a proposition for you." Perfect said in a low voice.  
  
"Not interested." Godfather said, turning to go into the bathroom.  
  
"No wait, hold up." Perfect said, grabbing his arm. "Listen, I'm willing to pay a huge sum for   
the lady on your right tonight."  
  
Godfather eyes him suspiciously. "How big?"  
  
Perfect frowned a little before replying. "How does two grand sound?"  
  
"Spoken like a true cheapskate." Godfather said, playing it cool even though he seriously had   
to take a leak. "These are first class ladies I'm flying with, man. For a night, I don't shake   
hands over something as low as two grand."  
  
"Three then."  
  
"Are you that desperate to get laid?"  
  
"No!" Perfect said in exasperation. "Look, she doesn't even really have to go with me, just look   
like she's leaving the plane with me, then she can go back to you. How does that sound?"  
  
"And you pay me the three grand."  
  
"And I pay you the three grand.  
  
Godfather rubbed his chin thoughtfully to a minute, before sticking his hand out. "That I'll shake   
over. You've got a deal." He shook Perfect's hand.  
  
"Oh, and one more thing. Could you not tell Val Venis about this?" Perfect asked.  
  
"Sure, sure, whatever, will you please just go so that I can do my business!" Godfather said,   
stepping into the cramped bathroom area and shutting the door.  
  
The Hurricane had no idea why Mr. Perfect made his way back to his seat with such a big smile   
of victory on his face. Thinking it none of his business, he shrugged and was about to go back   
to his comic book when a hand turned the page for him.  
  
"Come on, can't you read faster?" Test said, sipping his drink as he read through the comic book   
Hurricane had been reading.  
  
Hurricane blinked. "I thought you said a while ago that reading comic books were for nerds."   
He couldn't resist pointing out.  
  
Test waved his statement off impatiently. "Yeah, whatever." He said, still engrossed with what   
he was reading.  
  
Hurricane pushed the comic book to his table. "Here, you can borrow it." He said in a dry voice,   
shutting off his reading light and turning his attention to the movie. Test took it without a word.  
  
Spike was watching the movie but was close to dozing off. He had seen it when it first came   
out anyway. He turned to his right and blinked, doing a double take. There was William Regal,   
seated in between Bradshaw and Faarooq in just his pants and undershirt, and was in the process   
of taking off his belt.  
  
"Oh Lord, I am not even going to ask what's going on over there." Sharmell commented, catching   
sight of what he had seen.  
  
"Tell me about it." Spike agreed.  
  
Actually, Regal had just lost his fifty-seventh game in a row and had lost all his money, his watch,   
his gold-tipped pen, leather wallet, tie, vest, shirt, loafers and now his belt to the APA, and in   
that order too. At this rate he'd be down to his boxers by the time the plane touched down. And   
still Faarooq dealt the cards. Some people never learn.  
  
Lita looked up in surprise when a stewardess suddenly came up to her with a bottle of champagne.   
"I didn't order this." She said.  
  
"Compliments from the gentleman across the aisle." The stewardess said with a smile before   
leaving.  
  
Lita looked to see X-Pac give her a sickening grin then hold up his own glass, which happened to   
have just soda in it. Lita groaned and slouched back into her seat, trying to avoid eye contact.   
Now she wished that she had switched seats with Jeff just like Matt had suggested. "That is no   
gentleman." She muttered to herself.  
  
Behind them, she heard Jeff chortle and nearly choke on his own drink. She scowled more. Matt,   
she knew, was probably asleep.  
  
"Hey, good year." Hogan said, looking at the bottle.  
  
"You want it? It's yours."  
  
"Hey, thanks." Hogan said, taking his glass and uncorking the bottle, pouring some of the red liquid   
into it.  
  
"Hey man, that was for the lady." X-Pac suddenly piped up, seeing what Hogan had done.  
  
"I don't see a lady around here, do you?" Jeff's teasing voice came from the back. Lita had to grin   
despite herself.  
  
"I sent that for Lita." X-Pac said staunchly.  
  
"Therefore it is mine, and therefore I can do anything I want with it." Lita pointed out. "Including   
giving it to Hogan."  
  
X-Pac scowled as Hogan drained his glass, all the while smirking at him. He turned to look at his   
companions. "Hey, aren't you going to help me out here…?"  
  
"You won't get anything out of Hall for the moment." Nash said calmly, actually watching the   
movie that was on the screens. "I, on the other hand, am not about to pick a fight in a plane.   
I'll wait until I'm on solid ground to do that."  
  
With another scowl X-Pac slumped back in his seat, sipping his drink sourly and watching Hogan   
enjoy the wine. Jeff snickered again.  
  
"Ima nanji desuka?" Tajiri suddenly asked Torrie.  
  
Torrie turned to look at his impatient face and scratched her head. She had been with him for   
how many months now but still had a hard time understanding different phrases. "Er, nani?"  
  
Tazz had looked up from his seat and leaned over Steven Richards in order to whisper something   
in Kidman's ear. "Hey Kidman, the little Japanese dude just called you an asshole." He told him   
with a grin that should have warned Kidman immediately.  
  
"What??" Kidman said in a slightly loud voice.  
  
"No he did not." Torrie hissed, overhearing. "'Ketsu no ana' means 'asshole,' and he did not say   
that!"  
  
"Nanda to??" Tajiri asked in surprise, only catching the foul language in his native tongue.  
  
"There he goes again!" Tazz said, obviously trying to stir up trouble. "Hey, I got a word for you,   
tell him 'zakennayo.'"  
  
"Zake-what?" Kidman asked, unsure. "Zakennayo?"  
  
"Chikusho!" Tajiri immediately yelled, getting up from his seat to glare at Kidman. He then   
began to babble in a steady stream of Japanese, but obviously telling Kidman that if he wanted   
a fight then he's got it.   
  
"What the fuck did I tell him??" Kidman asked, perplexed but standing up.  
  
Torrie shook her head and covered her eyes with one hand. "You told him to fuck off." And to   
think he only started out by asking what time it was.  
  
"Couldn't you guys have waited until we were off the goddamn plane before picking a fight??"   
D'Lo asked in exasperation from the seat in front of them.  
  
"Hey Hurricane, why don't you go see if you can break that fight up." Molly suggested with a   
smirk to her former partner.  
  
Hurricane looked up. "I suppose it was only a matter of time for those two." He said with a   
groan. Beside him, Test turned another page.  
  
"Will you two jabronis up front sit down??" Rock yelled from the sixth row. "This is one of the   
Rock's best parts!"  
  
"We agree." Billy said from a seat behind him, Chuck nodding. Rock couldn't help but shudder.  
  
Before Tajiri and Kidman could actually come to blows, and by now the riot had woken up most   
of the people who were sleeping in the cabin, a godawful jolt from the plane threw them back-  
wards and back onto their seats.  
  
Still sniveling in the second to the last row, Kane choked back a squeal and proceeded to cling on   
tighter to Jackie, who tried to calm him down for about the twelfth time in five minutes. It   
didn't help that another jolt make the plane teeter precariously again and the PA system crackled   
to life.  
  
"Wow, did everybody feel that?" The captain's now familiar static voice said.  
  
"YES!!!" everybody in the cabin yelled out in unison.  
  
"What the crap is going on??" Ric Flair demanded.  
  
"Uh, remember the storm I talked about when we took off?" the captain chuckled wryly.   
"Well, it caught up to us. Or rather, we caught up to it. We're currently somewhere at its   
tail, which isn't bad but not good either."  
  
"Normally we'd go about telling everybody to remain calm." The co-pilot suddenly spoke up out   
of the blue. "But hey, it's a freakin' storm. We'll stop the movie momentarily. So everybody   
sit back, buckle yourselves up, buckle up anybody who's unconscious and can't buckle themselves   
up, and brace yourselves."  
  
"It's going to be a bumpy ride." The captain said, then the PA system went off.  
  
The screens fizzed out in the middle of where Mathayus had gotten lucky with the Sorceress   
that night. The Rock groaned.  
  
The pyro-technician beside Stone Cold pulled his safety belt back on, and turned to the   
Rattlesnake, who was still out cold. With a sigh he strapped Austin in, then let out a squeal   
when a hand grabbed his wrist.  
  
"What the crap you think you're doing, boy?" Stone Cold demanded in a low voice, looking out   
at him from half-opened eyes. He was utterly wasted, but somehow had woken up, if briefly.  
  
"I, uh, I-I…"  
  
"Spit it out, son!" Stone Cold said, his voice getting louder. "You better have a good explanation   
for having your hands all over in my area! Are you trying to steal beer or something??"  
  
With his free hand the pyro-technician pointed to the fasten seatbelt sign that had been lit   
up. "No, I wasn't. We're in the middle of a storm, sir." He squeaked out. "We've been told   
to put all our belts on."  
  
Austin eyed the sign, then the technician. "Oh." He said simply, then let go of him and   
promptly fell back to sleep again.  
  
Breathing a huge sigh of relief, the pyro-technician sat back in his seat with a sigh. Across   
the aisle from Stone Cold, Hall happily popped a beer can open for himself. He had swiped it   
when Austin was preoccupied with the technician.  
  
The plane tossed around. The lights flickered on and off. There were sounds of shock, a few stray   
whimpers no one will ever admit to, and the telltale noises of others throwing up. All in all, it   
looked like a scene from out of some cheesy drama, and Edge half-expected someone to stand up,   
get down on their knees in front of a woman, be it diva, stewardess or ho, and proclaim their love   
before the plane crashed.  
  
But of course that wasn't going to happen. Everybody in that plane was too macho to risk permanent   
damage to their egos.  
  
"We're gonna DIE!!" a hysterical voice rang out from a few rows up front.  
  
Edge groaned and shook his head as there were shouts for Christian to be placated. Then again,   
there were some that obviously felt very secure in their manhood to cry out like little girls.  
  
"You know, outside of the ring or wrestling I've never had any life or death experiences." Mick said,   
his voice still unusually chipper if not strained.  
  
Triple H didn't feel like making chitchat at the moment, which was understandable. "Well here's   
hoping that you'll live to write it all down in your next book, and that we'll all live to read it as well."   
He said through clenched teeth as the plane jostled about.  
  
"Hey, thanks Hunter." Mick said with his gap-toothed grin. There was a pause before he spoke   
again. "So you actually read my other books?"  
  
Triple H groaned.  
  
The pyro-technician who had been forced to vacate his seat to Stone Cold Steve Austin was at the   
moment, although petrified for his life, looking enviously at Kane. The Big Red Machine had his   
face nestled snugly at Jackie's large breasts as the Texan cooed to him and tried to tell him that   
everything was going to be all right.  
  
Trish had her eyes squeezed shut, but she opened them incredulously when she heard her seatmate   
give a forced chuckle. She looked at Jericho. "What the hell are you laughing about?" she asked   
in a voice that was as calm as she could manage.  
  
"I can't die here, not like this." Jericho said, still with that half-crazed smile on his face. "I won't   
die here like this."  
  
"And what makes you think that you won't for sure??" Trish snapped, getting annoyed. "Look around,   
the plane's in serious trouble and like it or not, you're in it!"  
  
"Don't you get it??" Jericho said, looking at her. "I'm the Living Legend! There's no way in hell I   
can die like this! I have greater things in store for me!"  
  
"Well you'll be a Dead Legend if you don't survive this!" Trish snapped at him.  
  
"Oh shut up, Trash Stratus."  
  
"Go to hell, Chris Jerk-off."  
  
All of a sudden the plane fell through an air pocket that was about ten feet deep. A scream rang   
out, and this time nobody took any notice, all absorbed in their own thoughts and convinces that   
their lives were flashing before their eyes.  
  
Not only panic was spreading through the cabin like wildfire. So were prayers. Hey, they all felt   
like they were at the brink of death, what the hell else did you expect them to do? Well, if you   
could read minds, this was what some of them were thinking:  
  
'Dear God, please don't let me die beside this queen.' Ivory thought solemnly, indicating Goldust.  
  
'God, I just managed to get a hold of half of the Federation.' Thought Ric Flair. 'And you're taking   
it all away from me?? It's not fair!'  
  
'Well, God, if ever worst comes to worst, then at least these crooks who call themselves the APA   
won't ever be able to make use of anything they took from me.' Regal thought with a bit of haughti-  
ness.  
  
'The Rock has just become a big movie star.' Rock thought. 'This is the Great One's chance and   
he's not about to let it slip out of his fingers!'  
  
'I'm a virgin! Virgins don't die in plane crashes!!' Molly thought hysterically.  
  
'Dear God, if I go, please take care of mom, and dad, and brother Eric, and cousin Jimmy…' Kurt   
continued to rattle off all the names of his relatives in his head, sniffing back tears as best as he   
could.  
  
'I can't use my superhero powers here!' the Hurricane thought frantically.  
  
'Jesus Christ, I think I'm missing a beer.' Austin thought to himself, looking around but apparently   
not noticing it in Hall's hands. 'Maybe I left it back in my bag. I better live through this to drink   
again. Ain't no beer up there. Down there maybe…'  
  
'Lord, this is shit.' Maven thought. 'I just won Tough Enough and gotten used to this crew. Now   
I'm going to die? That's messed up, man, that's totally messed up.'  
  
'God, I haven't had a decent angle in years.' Bossman thought. 'And now my life's going too?   
What do you want from me??'  
  
'This is dumb.' Rob thought as coolly as he could. While drumming his fingers on the armrest.   
'But of course I'm supposed to think everything is cool. Everything would be cool if I had a chill   
pill probably, but no, airline security probably wouldn't have let me get through with it…'  
  
'Dying probably isn't a bad thing, it may be a good thing.' Diamond Dallas Page thought, trying   
to convince himself. 'But God, not now! Let me try and spread more peace and positive thoughts!'  
  
'God, if you let me live through this, I swear that I will never dye people's hair while they are   
sleeping again, specifically Matt's.' Jeff Hardy thought. 'Well, maybe not all the time…'  
  
'If I live through this, I swear to you God that I will never put another woman through a table   
again.' Bubba thought. 'Unless she pisses me off really bad…'  
  
'I should have taken the train.' Jim Ross thought with a groan.  
  
'Lord Jesus, please let me live through this.' D-Von thought, hands clasped. 'I'll go to church every-  
day. I'll spread your word. I'll testify! Christ, I'll become a man of God, just let me live!'  
  
'Lord, if I get through this shit, I'll never go home with another strange woman again.' Booker   
thought solemnly.  
  
As for the Undertaker… oh yeah, as if you really believe that that guy was praying.  
  
And suddenly, as quickly as the damned thing began, it all stopped. No more bumping up and   
down, no more shaking, no more uncontrollable jerks. The plane flew smoothly and calmly from   
then on, and outside the sky that had turned black was now lightening up.  
  
"I think I speak for everybody when I say: What in the FUCK was that all about?" Triple H exclaimed.  
  
And yes, again the PA system came on. "Hey, we made it! Drinks all around!" the co-pilot greeted   
everyone.  
  
"Oh yeah, oh yeah, I'm good, I'm good…" the captain said next.  
  
"Oh shut up." The co-pilot said immediately. "For all of you who are wondering what happened,   
well, apparently, we've passed out of the storm's jurisdiction. We're heading southwest. It was   
heading southeast. Everything should be a smooth ride from now on."  
  
"But man, I got worried there for a minute…" the captain said with a shaky laugh.  
  
"Worried? You were cringing like hurt puppy and wailing for your mommy." The co-pilot said dryly.  
  
"Hey, they didn't need to know that." The captain said sourly, and then the system went off again.  
  
David Flair groaned as he unbuckled his seatbelt and tried to massage color back into his hands. He   
had gripped the armrests so hard that his knuckles had turned white. "I'm going to the bathroom."   
He said to his father.  
  
"Suit yourself." Ric said, rubbing his neck and trying to calm himself.  
  
David got up and headed for the back. He found Lita leaning over to the seat in the back, hugging   
Matt even though her seatback was in the way. Rock was trying to pry Kurt's arms off him, as the   
Olympic Dork had decided to give the Great One a hug of relief after the ordeal. Austin was blinking   
sleepily as he stood up to look in the overhead bin for more beer. Kane looked better, even with   
the mask still on. Jericho was laughing, and Trish was looking at him, puzzled, as if she was sure   
he was going to crack any minute now. Foley was grinning from ear to ear, and had blessedly left   
Hunter to get some shut eye as he went about writing his experience down on lined paper. Billy   
and Chuck were hugging each other too, nearly making David gag. Godfather was calming his hos,   
and looked like he was enjoying it too. Brawler was still a pasty white, being as he had been one   
of those who had thrown up, and Undertaker was eyeing him in disdain.  
  
David reached the back and stopped in front of a bathroom. He was about to go in when he frowned.   
Screw it, one of those rooms upstairs had been meant for him and his dad anyway. He would go   
there and claim an executive suite.  
  
And the plane ride continued.  
  
***  
  
  
Pyper: Does this plane ride ever come to an end?  
  
Azrael: Doesn't look like it. Maybe we can just stick them up there until they run out of gas or some-  
thing.  
  
Pyper: Very funny. How dare you think about killing off the Living Legend??  
  
Azrael: He won't be so alive when I'm done, though. *Ignores Pyper's death stare.* Hey, I hope you   
guys enjoyed this chapter as much as the others. We'll try to post up another one as soon as we can.   
Oh, and if I made any mistakes with my Japanese earlier, feel free to correct me. Sumimasen!  
  
Pyper: Domo arigato gozaimasu! Hey, I can speak Japanese!!  
  
Azrael: Do itashimashite.  
  
Pyper: Eh?  
  
Azrael: ... Nevermind. 


	6. The Executive Suite II

Disclaimer: We do not own the WWE (Vince McMahon does, but you already know that), nor are   
we in any way affiliated with the company. We just write, that's all, a couple of poor, penniless   
writers who don't do this for profit...  
  
Pyper: We would have updated sooner, but as you can see the problems with ff.net kept us from   
doing that. Well, at least it gave us time to formulate more story ideas and jot them down.  
  
Azrael: This chapter is actually longer than I first expected it to be. I think I wrote it with two   
condescending voices in my head, answering the other back. Yes, I admit, I hear voices in my head.   
I doubt any aspiring writer is anywhere near sane in the first place...  
  
Pyper: Hey, I hear voices in my head too! Does that mean I'm a writer for real?  
  
Azrael: No, Pyper, that's just you.  
  
Pyper: You're mean...  
  
  
THE EXECUTIVE SUITE II  
  
Right, we're going back there for the meantime again.  
  
Stephanie was clutching her stomach. She had neglected to follow the warning on the PA system   
to buckle up, too absorbed in recording the 'conversation' between Stacy and her father. As a result   
she had been tossed around like a rag doll for the first couple of minutes before she managed to   
drag herself to the seat and fasten her belt.  
  
If it was any consolation, Stacy and Vince in the other room were just as rudely interrupted, but   
man; we're not going to go into that.  
  
Back in the other suite Stephanie frantically grabbed at an airline sick bag and promptly threw up   
into it, just as David Flair walked into the room.  
  
"Oh, Jesus…" he groaned, looking away.  
  
Stephanie's reply was to throw up more, but seeing as David was there, she turned to face away   
from him as she did so.  
  
When the sounds of her vomiting had stopped, David turned around cautiously. He saw the Billion   
Dollar Princess wiping her lips with a napkin and hiding the sickness bag behind a chair. He rolled his   
eyes.  
  
"All right, what are you doing here??" she demanded, although she was still reeling from the motion   
sickness that had hit her.  
  
"I could ask you the same question." David shot back at her. "You're supposed to be suspended,   
remember?"  
  
"I don't have to answer to you!" Stephanie said arrogantly.  
  
"Then neither I to you." David countered.  
  
She seethed. "Grr, Flair, I'm in a really bad mood, so don't make me…" Stephanie cut herself off   
when her stomach gave another lurch, making her clutch at it again and cover her mouth.  
  
"Make you what? Throw up all over me?" David mocked, although he took a cautious step back.   
God forbid.  
  
Stephanie waved a threatening finger at him before going over to fish out her sick bag again and   
turning away from him to proceed and practically hurl her guts out for the second time that flight.  
  
"Shit, you're going to be all right, right?" David said, an unsure look on his face.  
  
"Yes, no thanks to you." Stephanie snapped. She straightened up, and although she still looked a   
little green it was a considerably better step from a while ago. She turned to him. "Listen, I   
don't really care what you're doing here. Right now, all I care about is you leaving. I'm in the   
middle of something important."  
  
"Like what? Hiding your illicit affair that's ongoing despite divorce proceedings?" David snickered.  
  
Stephanie's eyes widened in rage. "How dare you insinuate something like that!"  
  
"Hey, hearing of your track record, I wouldn't be surprised." David said. He began to walk around,   
looking behind the couch and the screen, in the bathroom and where else. "Okay, you don't need   
to hide him from me. Where is he? I won't rat you out."  
  
"I do not have a guy hidden here, or anywhere else!!" Stephanie yelled out indignantly.  
  
David looked at her flushed face and grinned. She was just too easy to annoy. He was about to   
say something when his ears caught a slight sound. He turned, puzzled. "What was that?"  
  
"Oh, so you finally heard it." Stephanie muttered. "That is dad's sickening display of, shall we say,   
'affection' towards his personal assistant. And you talk about me having an affair."  
  
David's eyes wandered over to the vent in the corner. He moved closer to it and listened cautiously.  
  
"Stacy, are you all right?" it was Vince's distinct tone.  
  
"Oh, I think so, Mr. McMahon." Stacy's slightly pained voice answered him.  
  
"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ask that the PA system be turned off in this room." Vince   
groaned.  
  
"But you'd think that something as serious as a storm would cause them to disregard that order."   
Stacy muttered. "Are you sure about those two pilots you asked me to hire? They seemed kind of   
young."  
  
"They had excellent qualifications. You saw the papers yourself." Vince said. "Stacy, you aren't   
looking so good. How about taking a seat next to me?"  
  
"Oh, thank you, Mr. McMahon." Stacy said with a sigh, and there was an audible whoosh as she sat   
down on the couch in the other suite.  
  
"Are you sure you weren't hurt?" Vince said in a mock worried voice. "Here, let me take a look   
at you."  
  
"Mr. McMahon!" Stacy actually giggled. "If I were hurt, I doubt it would be there!"  
  
"It doesn't hurt to check, now does it?" Vince said, his grin practically perceptible.  
  
Shuddering, David finally reeled back and took a step away from the vent, staring at it as if it   
were something nasty. "Now I see another plausible reason why dad wouldn't take the executive   
suite." He said in disgust.  
  
"See what I've had to put up with for the past hour?" Stephanie said, sitting back down on the couch.  
  
"Christ, how can you stand it?" David said. "Don't you get the in-flight movie up here? Couldn't   
you have used that to drown out the sound or something?"  
  
"Right, you actually want me to watch the Scorpion King?" Stephanie said with a sneer on her face.   
"You'll forgive me if I say that I've had my fill of the Rock."  
  
David gave her a weird look.  
  
Stephanie caught it. "I meant that I was always around that self-centered idiot every time there   
was a taping!" she said defensively. "What the hell were you thinking??"  
  
"Nothing, absolutely nothing." David said as innocently as he could.  
  
Stephanie continued to scowl at him as only she could. Then she finally relaxed a bit and a half-  
smile in fact crossed her face. "Something good did come out of this whole trip, though." She held   
up the tape recorder.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It's a tape recorder, you moron."  
  
"I know that." David said irritably. "But what is it for?"  
  
"What else?" Stephanie said. "I captured the whole 'conversation' between dad and his personal   
assistant. I'll blackmail him with it, and if that doesn't work, I'll use it to destroy him and take   
over his place."  
  
"Ambitious, aren't you?"  
  
Stephanie ignored his sarcasm. "What matters is, I'll soon be back on WWE programming, so I   
suggest that you start being nicer to me, little boy." She smirked at him.  
  
To her utter surprise, David began to laugh. He laughed long and hard, dropping into a single   
couch and thoroughly pissing off Stephanie even more. "And what exactly is so funny, if I may   
ask??" she snapped at him.  
  
"You and your flawed plan, that's what." David said amidst guffaws.  
  
"Flawed?" Stephanie exclaimed, her voice rising a notch, making it sound whiny and even more   
painful, if possible.  
  
"Sure." David said, crossing his legs. "Think about it. You can try and blackmail your dad, but   
not even he can lift the settlement that you agreed to in that last match for the Undisputed   
Championship." He leaned back into the seat. "You can very well try to overthrow your dad,   
but you might as well face it. The last time you tried that with your dear brother, well, we all   
saw how fruitful that went."  
  
Stephanie narrowed her eyes at his sarcasm.  
  
"And even if you did manage to pull of something like that through some sort of miracle, it   
won't get you very far." David said. He looked around. "Hey, can we call one of the stewardesses   
over to get us something to eat? I'm starving…" he reached over to press the stewardess call   
button.  
  
Stephanie abruptly slapped his hand away. "What do you mean by I won't get very far??" she   
demanded, ignoring his request for food.  
  
"Ow!" David protested, recoiling and rubbing his hand. He glared at her but answered her   
question nonetheless. "You may be able to take over your father's position, but then you forget   
that my dad is still the fifty percent owner. Whatever decisions you make for the company   
it'll have to be unanimous with him." He reached over and abruptly pressed the call button. "So   
there!"  
  
"Why you…" Stephanie caught herself and fought to remain calm. As much as she hated what   
he said, she had to admit that he did have a point.  
  
David sat there with a smile on his face, watching her count to ten. He wondered how much   
longer before she decided to strangle the life out of him.  
  
The door opened then. A flight attendant stuck her head in and flashed the both of them a   
smile. "Hello. You called?"  
  
"Yes, can we have something to eat? Wait, here's the menu." David reached over and picked   
up the menu on the table. "Ah, yes, get me…" he blinked for a moment and did a double take.   
Every single thing on the menu was composed of a random dish in the Can You Take the Heat   
cookbook. He sighed and chose something nevertheless. "Well, I might as well try Stephanie's   
Waldorf Salad." He looked across the table at Stephanie herself. "And what'll you have?"  
  
She uttered something akin to a suppressed growl.  
  
"Make that some of Jericho's Doodles for the lady." David said, closing the menu. "And two   
sherbets."  
  
"Right away, sir." The stewardess said pleasantly before exiting and shutting the door behind her.  
  
David turned back to Stephanie. She was in the process of grinding her teeth together. He   
smiled again. "Oh don't be so sore, Stephanie." He said. "Just be glad I'm not throwing you out   
of here, since technically I have every right to use it and you don't. Trust me, you won't like stick-  
ing around the main cabin."  
  
Stephanie took a deep breath, and to David's mild surprise she smiled back at him. She actually   
pulled off looking charming. "You know what, fine, I'm not going to let you get to me anymore.   
On the contrary, I'm going to try and enjoy my time here with you."  
  
"No, I'm not going to sleep with you." David immediately said. "Not even if it drowns out the   
sounds coming from the next room."  
  
Stephanie astonishingly kept her cool. "I didn't mean that, silly." She said with a forced giggle.  
  
David gave her a suspicious look. Did she think he was dense enough not to notice a laugh as   
fake as that? 'I didn't mean that, silly?' Please.  
  
"You know, being as our fathers are business partners, I think we should use this opportunity to   
get to know each other better." Stephanie said, sliding over the couch to get as close as she could   
to him without actually getting up.  
  
"What for? I'm still in training and you're not allowed on programming." David said dryly.  
  
Man, this guy was hard to crack. Stephanie kept her smile as beaming as ever, though. "Oh come   
on, David. Don't be like that. Since we've got about an hour or so left on this plane, we might as   
well make the best of it."  
  
"Ookay…" David said hesitantly.  
  
"Let's try to establish some common ground." Stephanie began. "Tell me about yourself. What   
do you like, what don't you like, about your family, etceteras…"  
  
"Why don't we be specific here."  
  
"Let's start with your family then." Stephanie said brightly. "Tell me about your relationship with   
your dad or something."  
  
David cocked an eyebrow. There it was, she just gave herself away again. She was obviously   
using him to get to his father, or at least try to wheedle out some information about the Nature   
Boy through him. "Dad and I get along just fine." He answered her.  
  
"Oh come on, a while ago you were all chatty." Stephanie pouted.  
  
"Well then let me put it this way." David said. "At least I don't have to skulk around air vents   
recording his illegal affairs."  
  
Stephanie rested her back onto the couch in a huff. "I thought you wanted to talk."  
  
"I never actually used those words." David told her. "I just said that you could stick around here   
for the rest of the flight."  
  
"Well forgive me for trying to start a conversation."  
  
"No, if that was what you were originally trying to do, then I wouldn't have minded." David said.   
"No, Stephie, what you were unabashedly doing was trying to charm me into spilling some nasty   
secret of my father's, or something along the lines of that."  
  
"I wouldn't do that!" Stephanie defended with her best wide-eyed stare.  
  
"Oh spare me, Stephanie."  
  
"Oh all right!!" Stephanie yelled out loud, standing up and glowering down at him. She looked   
like she was about to yell again when another smile lit up her face. This one suited her more   
than the first civilized one. It was absolutely conniving. "Tell you what, why don't you join me."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Think about it, we can overthrow both our fathers and take over WWE together." Stephanie   
said enthusiastically.  
  
"That's crazy."  
  
"No, it's brilliant!!"  
  
"No, It's just crazy!" David said from his place still on the single couch. "Listen, this is not a   
fucking empire! You don't show a bunch of incriminating evidence of your father's lurid personal   
life and expect to be handed the place of power on a silver platter!!"  
  
"It will be if we bend it our way!!" Stephanie insisted.  
  
"No, there is no our, just your." David told her sharply, standing up to face her evenly. "Just   
you, got it?? Keep me out of your delusional dreams of power!"  
  
That was apparently quite enough for Stephanie. With a seething cry and dove for David and   
actually tackled him to the ground. David, obviously not expecting a physical attack just then,   
fell over backwards and over the single couch he had been sitting on, Stephanie sprawling on top   
of him.  
  
The door opened and the stewardess from earlier entered brightly with their food on a cart.   
She saw the ongoing fight between the children of the co-owners of the WWE and her smile   
did not even falter. "Okay, I'll just leave the food here, sir, madam." She said, wheeling the cart   
in and leaving it by the door before shutting it.  
  
The two rolling on the floor didn't even notice her, too engrossed in trying to beat the shit out of   
each other.  
  
***  
  
Vince had pressed himself up against the wall, listening closely. "What in the hell is Stephanie   
doing that's causing so much ruckus there?" he wondered out loud.  
  
Stacy shrugged.  
  
***  
  
  
Pyper: But sometimes the shit just seems, everybody only wants to discuss me/ so this must mean   
I'm disgusting, but it's just me I'm just obscene! Hey!  
  
Azrael: *Scowls.* Oh sure, rub it in my face that my blasted stereo is holding that CD and two others   
hostage, why don't you.  
  
Pyper: Hey, you were the one dumb enough to get the damned thing busted.  
  
Azrael: Nay, Pyper, there are just random shit in your life that cannot be avoided. You being   
around me is one of them.  
  
Pyper: Hey, I actually got that pun! (Whines.) You were making fun of me again, weren't you?  
  
Azrael: *Sighs.* Well, so much for this chapter. This is thankfully the last time we'll be taking you   
to the executive suite, that's for sure. We hope that you enjoyed this latest chapter. The next   
one is already in the works, and promises to be much better, I assure you.  
  
Pyper: Yeah, you should see when... (Sees Azrael shooting her a death look.) Okay, I'll keep quiet.   
Please review! 


	7. Descent

Disclaimer: Eh, you get the point by now.  
  
Pyper: Hey, we're actually progressing faster now, here we are with another chapter. But, well,   
we have to admit that we were pretty much running out of ideas so we decided to ask around.   
deadgirlwalking8 contributed a lot to the plot for this chapter. Thanks, girl!  
  
Azrael: Yes, and with the material she gave us I was able to screw around with Jericho's character   
further. *Grins sadistically.*  
  
Pyper: *Takes a hesitant step away from her.* Yeah, you could pretty much call this the 'Pick-On-Jericho'   
chapter. Enjoy!  
  
  
DESCENT  
  
Meanwhile, back in the main cabin, nobody had gotten into an actual physical fight. Not yet, at   
least.  
  
Ric Flair was getting worried. David hadn't come back from his alleged trip to the bathroom. If   
he only knew what his son was in the middle of right now.  
  
"No, gentleman, I am not going to throw my jacket into the gambling pool in attempt to recover   
anything else you've swindled out of me!" Regal declared from the eighth row. He was technically   
seated in nothing but his undershirt, boxer shorts and socks and the jacket was the only thing left   
inside his once full hand carry.  
  
Faarooq shrugged, still admiring the watch his had won from him earlier. "Suit yourself." He said   
nonchalantly.  
  
Bradshaw said nothing. It was probably a good idea to stop; if Regal went out of the plane in no-  
thing but his underwear it would be embarrassing for the entire company, even if it were hilarious.  
  
Jericho was bored to tears. He was drumming his fingers on his armrest, being as the station he   
had been listening to had stopped and restarted again. Damned recorded things. He didn't know   
how long they had been in the air and damnit, he had forgotten to wear a watch. A glance at his   
seatmate told him that she had one.  
  
But then they had been engrossed in pissing each other off for over the past hour. He sighed and   
decided that it was a harmless question to ask anyway.  
  
"Hey Trish." He began, trying to sound cordial and ignoring the look of death that she shot him.   
"What time is it?"  
  
Trish had been silently fuming to herself, drinking a stifling cold mango juice that she held in her   
right hand, but had been surprised by Jericho's question. Not wanting to be a bitch by using this   
opportunity to restart their fight, she decided to just answer him. Nevertheless trouble started.  
  
As stated before Trish was holding her ice cold drink in her right hand. It so happened that she was   
wearing her watch on her right hand too, and the face had slid down to below her wrist. As a reflex,   
she turned her wrist clockwise to look at it, and in effect spill her mango juice all over Jericho's   
crotch area.  
  
"YYEEEOOOWWWCCHHHHH!!!!!!!" Jericho howled in shock, trying to stand up but forgetting that   
he was still pinned to the seat by means of his safety belt. Every head in the cabin turned to him.  
  
"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, Chris." Trish said, although it was obvious that she was trying to con-  
trol her laughter.  
  
"FUCK!! What in the fuck did you do that for??" Jericho yelled hysterically at Trish, having unbuckled   
his seatbelt and now leaning heavily on the stewardess call button.  
  
"You asked me for the time." Trish said with an annoyingly calm smile.  
  
"Why you- Jesus Christ, that thing's fucking cold!" Jericho said, dabbing frantically at the stain on   
his pants with the plane blanket. Yeah, not too bright, but I guess we can't blame the guy at this   
moment.  
  
A stewardess finally arrived. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked.  
  
"Are you god-freakin' blind???" Jericho yelled, shifting his center of anger away from Trish for a   
moment. "Can't you see that I've got a problem here?? Why the hell else would I call you?? To   
have a chat?? Get me some paper towels… and a new blanket, pronto!!" he roared.  
  
By now a bunch of the other superstars had started laughing. Jericho caught sight of Crash snicker-  
ing as inconspicuously as he could. It wasn't good enough, though.  
  
"You think this is funny, Elroy??" he snapped at him.  
  
"Now come on, it was my fault, don't take it out on Crash." Trish admonished as the stewardess   
left to get some paper towels. "Do you have a spare change of pants or something?"  
  
"No I do not have a spare change of pants." Jericho told her. "Somehow I didn't think I would be   
getting doused by your mango juice from hell."  
  
"Well, we've got to get you out of those wet pants." Trish said reasonably. She stood up, cleared   
her throat and spoke in a loud voice. "Everybody, Jericho seems to have wet his pants. Does   
anybody have a pair that they can lend him for the time being?"  
  
"Goddamnit, do you mind keeping your voice down??" Jericho hissed at her.  
  
"Why? You were loud enough a while ago." She pointed out.  
  
"I had freezing cold juice poured onto my genitalia!" Jericho snapped at her.  
  
It was amazing that Trish still managed to keep a straight face after that. She simply turned   
back to the others. "Please, anyone? He's freezing his balls off here."  
  
That was enough for the Hardy brothers. They both broke into a fresh burst of laughter, clearly   
audible even from where Jericho and Trish were sitting.  
  
Jericho was stopped from yelling at them as well by Rikishi. The Big Man had stood up (with   
Edge getting out of the way this time) and retrieved something from his hand carry that had   
been stuffed into the overhead bin. "Here, Chris." He offered with a smile. "I've got an extra   
pair. Just don't stretch it out, okay?" he held out an enormous pair of baggy white pants in   
Jericho's direction. PHAT Wear.  
  
"Give him one of your matching thongs while you're at it." Bradshaw snickered.  
  
"Thanks but no thanks, Rockachichi." Jericho said. "I'll find something else."  
  
Rikishi shrugged. "Your choice, dude." He went back to his seat.  
  
At that moment the stewardess from earlier came back. "It took you long enough." Jericho   
practically snarled at her, grabbing the paper towels she held out.  
  
"Yeah, hi, listen, you wouldn't happen to have an extra pair of men's trousers lying around,   
would you?" Trish asked her. "Something Jericho's size?"  
  
"Stratus, you've done enough, just shut up." Jericho hissed at her.  
  
"Hey, I feel responsible, I'm trying to help you out here." Trish told him. She turned back to   
the stewardess with a smile. "So, any ideas?"  
  
The stewardess looked Jericho over. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we've got anything for men   
in his size." She said apologetically. "Though we do have a colleague about as big as him,   
maybe one of her skirts would be able to…"  
  
"Don't even think about it!!" Jericho cut her off abruptly.  
  
"Hey Rock, you're somewhere around Jericho's size." Kurt suggested suddenly. "I know you   
always seem to have spare pairs of pants everywhere you go. Why don't you lend Jericho one?"  
  
The Rock raised his eyebrow at him. "Are you serious, Kurt? The Rock would sooner trade   
places with Ivory." Then he thought about what he said. "Okay, maybe the Rock wouldn't go   
that far…"  
  
"Chris…" Trish still had that smile on her face.  
  
"Would you please SHUT the HELL UP??" Jericho snapped at her. "I'm not wearing a skirt that   
belongs to some oversized female flight attendant."  
  
Trish turned back to the stewardess. "I guess that's a no. Thanks for your help."  
  
"No problem." The flight attendant said before leaving.  
  
As they continued to bicker, the pyro-technician seated three rows up looked at his seatmate   
in surprise. Stone Cold was holding up three fingers. "Three." He said in a low growl, which   
wasn't too drunk but not entirely sober either.  
  
"Three?" he said nervously.  
  
"I'm missing three beers." Austin said in that same voice.  
  
The pyro-technician blinked, surprised that the Rattlesnake could still keep count.  
  
"Yep, three." Austin repeated, looking none too happy. "And from the looks of you, I'm gues-  
sing you're not behind it."  
  
The pyro-technician breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
Stone Cold slowly swung his head the other way, looking suspiciously at Scott Hall. Hall quickly   
hid the third can he had taken from Austin from the Rattlesnake's view. Three cans weren't   
enough to make him tipsy, not yet, but his face had the slightest twinge of reddish flush on it.  
  
As Austin narrowed his eyes, the pyro-technician beside him inched away as far as he possibly   
could, practically squishing himself up against the window.  
  
Jazz banged impatiently on the restroom door. She had been standing there for about five   
minutes now, which was entirely too long for anybody to spend inside an airplane comfort room.   
"Whoever's in there, hurry it up!" she said loudly.  
  
There was a scuffle inside and the door opened to reveal Brooklyn Brawler. Jazz scowled at   
him. "What the hell took you so long in there?"  
  
"Actually I didn't do anything." Brawler confessed, making Jazz want to deck him. "I just didn't   
want to go back to my seat."  
  
"Jesus Christ, Brawler." Jazz said in exasperation. She pushed him out of the way and went   
inside the restroom, closing it behind her.  
  
Brawler hung around there for a few more moments when Goldust came up. The bizarre Golden   
dude blinked and looked around. "I thought Jazz was here." He said.  
  
Brawler pointed to the closed bathroom door. "She's in there."  
  
They waited there for a few more minutes until the door opened. Jazz stepped out and looked   
at the both of them in suspicion, both of them looking back at her. "What are you two doing   
out here?"  
  
"I told you my reason." Brawler said. He jerked his head towards Goldust's direction. "He just   
came along."  
  
Jazz rolled her eyes. "Will you get back to your seat?" she said to Brawler. "It's a goddamn   
plane, the Undertaker's not going to think of doing anything on it, especially after all the turbu-  
lence earlier."  
  
"Oh sure, that's easy for you to say." Brawler said sourly. "You're not the one seated next to   
him."  
  
"Fine." Jazz snapped. "You take my seat and I'll go sit beside the Undertaker. How's that to   
you?"  
  
Brawler's face lit up with renewed hope. "You'd do that for me?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Jazz said, brushing past him. "Now go do it before I change my mind."   
She turned to leave.  
  
"Wait!" Goldust said suddenly.  
  
Jazz and Brawler looked at him. "What??" Jazz asked impatiently.  
  
"Actually, Jazz, I came over here wanting to talk to you." Goldust said with his best smile, making   
Jazz scowl even harder. "You see, I was hoping that WE could change places so that I would get   
to sit beside Booker T."  
  
"Too late, she already made a deal with me." Brawler said quickly.  
  
"Who're you sitting next to again?" Jazz asked Goldust.  
  
"Ivory." He replied.  
  
Jazz thought about it. Sticking herself and Ivory together probably wasn't for the best. In   
fact, she'd go as far to say that it would be safer for everyone if she sat next to the Undertaker.   
She sighed. "Fine, take my seat. But give Brawler yours."  
  
"I can live with that." Brawler said eagerly.  
  
Goldust nodded. "That arrangement seems best."  
  
Jazz had no idea why she was being so nice today. Maybe it was the near death experience.   
She rolled her eyes again and stalked off to claim Brawler's seat.  
  
"She's got more balls than the average man, I'll give her that." Brawler commented when she   
was out of earshot.  
  
"Mm-hmm." Goldust said disinterestedly.  
  
Brawler looked at him and realized that Goldust was probably one of the last people to under-  
stand what being the average man meant. Man, Chuck, Billy, Goldust… they were the type   
of guys in the locker room that made the other guys think twice about bending over to pick   
up fallen soap in the showers. He hurried away to take the seat beside Ivory.  
  
Let's get back to Jericho. Right now, the unfortunate Living Legend was trying in vain to   
keep Trish from pulling off his pants there and then, and not for the reason people would   
normally think.  
  
"I'm telling you, Trish, don't even think about it!!" Jericho was saying, trying to keep her hands   
away. Jesus, was this what they called the maternal instinct?  
  
"Jericho, don't be such a baby!" Trish scolded him, giving him a patronizing look. "You can't stay   
in those wet pants, besides there's this large and embarrassing stain on it. It makes you look   
like you didn't make it to the john in time."  
  
"Thank you for that descriptive analysis, Stratus!" Jericho snapped at her. "But I can take care   
of it myself!"  
  
"Hey Chris, I think I may have an extra pair of jogging pants!" Mick suddenly called out helpfully.   
"But I'm not entirely sure when was the last time they were washed, or when I wore them for   
that matter…"  
  
"Yeah, thanks Foley." Jericho said sarcastically. "You were about as much help as Rikishi   
over there."  
  
Meanwhile, Kurt had been digging around in his hand carry bag and let out a small noise of   
triumph. Rock shot him a disinterested glance. Kurt stood up with something in his hand.   
"Hey Jericho, I happened to have an extra pair of jogging pants myself." He said with a smile.   
"You're welcome to borrow them for now."  
  
"Oh great." Jericho muttered.  
  
"Hey, they're clean." Kurt defended.  
  
Jericho looked at him, then at Trish who smiled sweetly back at him. Jericho shook his head   
and groaned.  
  
Undertaker looked up in slight surprise as Jazz took the seat beside him. He two of them   
stared at each other for a split second before Taker spoke. "What happened to Brawler?"   
he asked, not sounding too interested in the answer.  
  
"We made some slight changes in the seating arrangement." Jazz said, equally as icy.  
  
Taker said nothing after that. He wasn't too happy, but at least he wouldn't have a sniveling   
idiot shivering beside him. What the hell did Brawler think he was going to pull, anyway? Open   
the escape hatch and throw him out of the plane? Please. He had to hand it to Jazz, though.   
She was one of the few divas who had managed to look him in the eye and not quake in her   
boots.  
  
"Where did this wine come from again?" Matt asked as he enjoyed his glass.  
  
"Compliments of the 'gentleman' from across the aisle, as the stewardess who brought it so   
charmingly put it." Hogan said, laughing.  
  
The 'gentleman' across the aisle scowled as he stared at the empty glass on his folding table.  
  
"Any chance we can get another?" Jeff asked with a grin.  
  
"Watch it, Hardy boy." X-Pac growled at him.  
  
Beside him, Kevin Nash actually laughed. Maybe he was tipsy himself, but of what we have no   
idea. "Don't let it get to you, X-Pac." He said. "Besides, just be happy that you're not the most   
humiliated guy on the plane yet." He snickered as he took a sip of his drink.  
  
Speaking of that guy, he was currently in the bathroom changing, with Trish hovering at the   
door. She knocked on it. "Are you done?"  
  
"No, mother, and you can't come in." Jericho's annoyed voice came from inside.  
  
She knocked again, patiently. Whether she was really feeling guilty of spilling her drink all over   
him or knew exactly what to do to tick him off, Jericho didn't really know, but she was doing   
a hell of a good job doing it. "Come on, Jericho. Let's get those wet pants to a stewardess so   
she can take care of it for you."  
  
There was a moment of silence. Trish grew impatient this time. She knocked again. "Chris?   
Is something wrong?"  
  
"I'm not coming out." Jericho said in a quiet voice.  
  
"What? Could you say that again?"  
  
"I'm not coming out." Jericho said, this time a little bit louder.  
  
"And why not?"  
  
"Trust me, if you're looking at what I'm seeing right now, you wouldn't want me out there either."   
Jericho answered.  
  
"It can't be that bad."  
  
"Oh, it's bad."  
  
"What's wrong with him now?" Lillian Garcia came up suddenly, indicating the closed door.  
  
"He won't come out." Trish said with a shrug. "Says that it looks to horrible."  
  
Lillian rolled her eyes. "What is it about men and their looks?"  
  
"I know, I have no idea either." Trish agreed.  
  
"Oh shut up, both of you." Jericho said from inside. "Vivian? Is that you?"  
  
"It's Lillian." She told him.  
  
"Whatever." Jericho said. "Anyway, I'm telling you, there is no way I'm going to go out in public   
looking like this. I mean I thought it looked bad enough on that dork Kurt Angle, but wholly shit…"  
  
"Jericho, just open the door!" Trish said edgily.  
  
Another muted curse came out of Jericho's mouth before he reached over and pulled the door   
open. Both women at the door looked him up and down, Lillian with a hand on her mouth to hide   
her grin while Trish simply had this smile of incredulity and delight on her face.  
  
"That's right, laugh it up, ladies." Jericho growled.  
  
You guys know how Kurt looks like in those really weird jogging pants of his, right? The ones   
that are a little short so that it reaches only to around the ankles and bunches up somewhere   
around the hips. Imagine it on Jericho. Yes, are you guys done laughing? Okay then; let's get   
back to the story.  
  
"It's not so bad." Trish said, trying not to giggle as she did.  
  
"Yeah right." Jericho retorted. "I can practically feel Kirk's dork-ness seeping into me via these   
godawful pants."  
  
"It's just for the rest of the flight." Lillian pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, but then he has to get to his seat first!" Trish exclaimed, finally bursting out into laughter.   
Lillian soon joined her.  
  
Jericho growled something unintelligible at them then brushed past them. He tried not to think   
of his hilarious get up as he stepped into the aisle and started to walk back to his seat.  
  
The first person react was Paul Heyman. He was busy reading the in-flight magazine and stuf-  
fing peanuts into him mouth when Jericho walked past stiffly. Heyman stopped in the middle   
of popping another peanut into his mouth and promptly began to gag on it. Jericho pretended   
not to notice as Brock Lesnar had to get up and perform the Heimlich on the choking Heyman.  
  
"Wholly shit, that ranks somewhere up with you wearing lingerie on my bed." Booker T snickered   
to Goldust.  
  
"I didn't look that bad." Goldust said.  
  
"Oh it, was bad." Booker told him.  
  
"Not a word, Edgeward." Jericho growled at Edge, who looked up with Rikishi as he passed by.  
  
"Not to worry, I'm speechless." Edge said, staring at him with the same expression Trish had on   
her face when Jericho had opened the door.  
  
Rob Van Dam, in the meantime, had burst out laughing. "Now I've seen everything." He chortled   
to Michael Cole, who was trying not to laugh himself.  
  
"Not a bad fit, Jericho!!" Mick called from the other side of the plane, Triple H laughing in the   
seat beside him.  
  
"Why's everybody laughing?" Kurt asked. "I think it looks good on him."  
  
Rock raised his eyebrow at him for the nth time during this flight. "Sometimes the Rock wonders   
about you, Kurt." He said. "The Rock really does."  
  
Lita had stood up in her place with her camera in hand. Jericho saw her and stopped, holding a   
hand out. "Hey, don't even think about it, Red." He told her.  
  
"Chris, in the duration of this flight I've gotten pictures of Jeff cuddling up to Matt, the Rock trying   
not to squeeze the life out of his seatmate, Test pretending not to read over Hurricane's shoulder,   
a bunch of you guys resisting to break out in fights, Heyman ogling all the stewardesses and count-  
less others. I can't not take a picture of you in this situation, it's too good to miss." Lita grinned.   
"So smile, Jericho!" she said, as she happily took his picture before he could protest.  
  
Jericho quickly made his way to his seat and sat down in a huff. Of all the places to be mortified,   
it had to be at least thirty thousand miles above solid land. He watched as Trish sauntered over   
to their row and sat down.  
  
"I left your pants with a flight attendant." She told him.  
  
"I'll get you for this, Stratus." He told her glumly.  
  
Trish simply smiled at him. "We'll see about that."  
  
It was quiet for a total of five whole minutes except for murmurs until the PA system switched on.   
Ah, you thought it was broken, didn't you? Nope, it was still functioning, and the pilot's voice came   
through.  
  
"Well, here's some good news for you people." The pilot said cheerily. "We've begun our descent.   
The journey's about to end, we expect to be landing in about thirty minutes."  
  
"Assuming no one has gone about ripping each other's throats out, although some of you are no   
doubt drunk, hysterical or soaking wet, we'd like to ask you to gather up your things as soon as   
now." The co-pilot spoke up. "Oh, and buckle up your belts."  
  
"Yeah, I think it's only fair to warn you that our landings are usually pretty bumpy." The pilot   
said, making more than a few of their passengers groan and squirm in their seats. The PA system   
switched off.  
  
Hurricane was jolted out of light sleep by the PA system, and he went about dutifully buckling   
himself up. He looked around in alarm when he noticed that his bag had disappeared. "What the…?"  
  
A quick glance at his seatmate cleared things up. Test was seated, hunched up in his seat sip-  
ping a glass of soda while reading one of his Marvel comics, not the one that he had handed to   
him a while ago. His bag was with Test too, opened. "Citizen Test?"  
  
"Hey, I'm just going to finish this, okay?" Test told him, barely looking up.  
  
Hurricane blinked and shook his head with a shrug.  
  
Ric Flair looked around. There was still no sign of his son. He had a good idea of where he   
was by now, though, and he hoped that he hadn't met up with Vince. As he buckled up his seat-  
belt he turned to look around one last time. Brawler was now seated beside Ivory and no longer   
two shades whiter than he actually was. Stone Cold Steve Austin and Scott Hall were giving each   
other death stares, which made him very uncomfortable. He hoped that those two would hold   
off getting into a fight at least until the plane touched down. Torrie looked annoyed at the fact   
that Kidman and Tajiri were shooting hostile looks at each other around her. Jericho was sit-  
ting sullenly, obviously very much subdued while Trish smirked beside him, delighted that she   
had managed to squash his ego for at least an hour. Flair hadn't wanted to admit it but he had   
heartily joined along with the rest of the superstars as they laughed at Jericho's mishap. Kane   
looked aeons better. Perfect was still smiling, with Venis not minding him in the least. He   
found Jazz seated beside the Undertaker, neither of them interested in striking up a conver-  
sation with the other. Rob Van Dam had blessedly stopped chugging down glass after glass of   
orange juice. William Regal had tightly bundled himself up in his jacket, not making eye contact   
with the APA lest he be suckered into another game.  
  
Flair settled back into his seat. He was so glad that this ride was coming to an end.  
  
And the plane dipped lower.  
  
***  
  
  
Pyper: I can't believe I let you do that to Jericho.  
  
Azrael: Eh, he'll live.  
  
Pyper: *Sighs.* Can you believe that we're so close to finishing this fanfic? I see a light at the   
end of the tunnel!!  
  
Azrael: *Gives her a weird look.* Right, whatever. I have a feeling that the last chapter is going   
to be the longest. It's easy wrapping up everything.  
  
Pyper: You'll manage.  
  
Azrael: Excuse me?  
  
Pyper: We'll manage.  
  
Azrael: No, you said I would manage. I swear to God that you better help with this final chapter   
or I'm hiding your stash of WWE magazines from you forever.  
  
Pyper: *Shrieks.* You wouldn't!!  
  
Azrael: Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! 


	8. Landing

Disclaimer: We still own jack. Vinc estill owns everything. In his own words, life sucks and then you   
die. Eh, we'll live.  
  
Pyper: Well, she didn't take my mags, but she did buy the RAW mag with Austin and 'The Untold   
Story' on the front before I could. But I least I got the one that says 'Louder than Life.' Ha, Jericho   
rules!! *Bursts out laughing maniacally then pauses when she realizes that no one else is there.* Uh,   
Azrael? I could have sworn that she was right beside me. Azrael...? *Pauses again and lets out a   
shriek of terror.* Oh my God!! They've got her, and now they're coming to get me too!!   
Nnooooooooooo!!!!!!! *Runs off screaming into the distance.  
  
Azrael: *Arrives a split second after she disappears.* Pyper? Goddamnit, I told her I'd just be a   
minute in getting a soda. That freak. Anyway, this is the final chapter! Enjoy.  
  
  
LANDING  
  
"… please place your seatbacks in an upright position, fold back your tables and check that your   
seatbelts are securely fastened…"  
  
Could it be? Yes, it's true. After more than seven chapters of being cramped in a plane with insane   
and sometimes homicidal companions, not to mention terribly frazzled flight attendants, this fanfic   
is finally drawing to a close.  
  
Well, not until we're crammed in a few more hi-jinks for your reading pleasure.  
  
"When the Rock gets to the hotel, he's going to soak himself in a tub." Rock groaned to himself as   
he went about fixing his area.  
  
"But Rock…" Kurt said, overhearing him. "Billy and Chuck have invited both of us to their hotel room   
the moment we touchdown. They promise that they'll have more fun games to do there, and that   
they'll introduce us to their friend, Rico."  
  
Rock simply gave him a weird look and shuddered, not bothering to tell him anything.  
  
Scott Hall tossed away the fifth beer can he had taken under Austin's nose and emptied. He was   
drunk, all right, but he had to have one more. And in that cloudy haze he saw himself check if Austin   
was looking.  
  
The Rattlesnake had fallen asleep again. How was that for good luck? Snickering to himself, Hall   
slowly reached out and tried to grasp the can that was poking out of Stone Cold's bag. A little more…  
  
"Gotcha!" Austin's gruff voice bellowed out, grabbing Scott Hall by the wrist.  
  
Startled, Hall let out a small cry of indignation. The bastard had been faking it! "Let go of me,   
you drunken idiot!" Hall slurred.  
  
"I got news for you, pal." Austin told him in a similarly garbled fashion. "You're no better off than   
me at the moment."  
  
Actually, the two of them arguing in that fashion were a pretty weird sight, but come on. They   
were two big guys who were far from sober. Nobody was stupid enough to laugh.  
  
"I don't take kindly to idiots who are dumb enough to steal my beer, son." Austin said, half-rising to   
his feet and still not taking his hand off Hall's wrist.  
  
"I don't see how you catch many, seeing as you're only dumb enough to have caught me now!" Scott   
Hall countered, raising his voice and abruptly jerking himself to a standing position so that he pulled   
Austin up as well.  
  
"I caught you, didn't I??" Austin pointed out, jabbing the index finger of his free hand at Scott Hall's   
chest. At this point they were partially holding each other up.  
  
"Oh shit." Jeff Hardy said, seeing what was happening. "The two of them finally decided to go   
at it."  
  
"We only had less than half an hour in the air left!" Matt groaned. "Couldn't they have waited??"  
  
"I'm going to say this one last fucking time…" Hall said in a low snarl. "Let go of my wrist."  
  
"Funny, I thought you were holding my wrist." Austin said with a blear-eyed blink.  
  
"Gentlemen, please, sit down and fasten your seatbelts." A flustered flight attendant suddenly cut   
in, probably after psyching herself up first in order to be able to do it. Hey, you have to admire   
her guts.  
  
"Back off, lady, this is between this sonofabitch and me." Austin growled.  
  
"But the plane is going to land in about twenty minutes." The stewardess persisted. "Please, take   
your seats! It's for your safety!"  
  
"And I'm going to say this for your safety." Hall said, finally turning to look at her. "Be a good girl,   
back off and take your own goddamn seat, because-"  
  
Hall was cut off as Austin hit him with a clumsy left hook. Despite it being a weak hit, Hall, being   
inebriated as he was, went down easily and would have sprawled all over the unfortunate crew-  
member seated in front of him if Nash hadn't grabbed him at the last second.  
  
To make matters worse, all of a sudden the plane veered sharply downward, as compared to the   
deliberate fall that it had been taking a while ago. A scream rang out as Nash fought to pull Hall   
back into his seat, and Albert managed to prop up Stone Cold and push him back into his own seat,   
where the pyro-technician buckled him up for the second time.  
  
The stewardess who had tried to stop the brawl was not so lucky, though. With a yelp she lost   
her balance and fell over, collapsing all the way to the front of the aisle where she disappeared   
into the place were the food was being kept. JR winced with every slam and bang that echoed   
throughout the cabin, documenting her painful trip.  
  
Then a final crash was heard and then there was silence. The entire cabin was quiet as every-  
body looked dumbly at where she had fallen.  
  
The PA system came on. "Oops." The captain said.  
  
"Sorry about that. We hope all of you had your seatbelts fastened like we told you to." The co-  
pilot's tone was slightly condescending. Then it went off again.  
  
"Isn't anyone going to see if she's all right?" Lillian asked Scotty.  
  
Scotty shrugged. "If we stand up and the plane jolts again, she won't be alone over there, I   
guarantee it."  
  
Suddenly there was a rustle from the front and a weak voice stated, "I'm okay… I'm okay."  
  
"You heard her, she's okay." Scotty said with a grin. Lillian frowned at him.  
  
After that little spectacle, most everybody tightened their breaths and held on tightly to the   
armrests, some closing their eyes and others muttering words of maybe prayer under their   
breaths. Others couldn't care less. Still others were unconscious. We'll leave you to decide who   
those were.  
  
"I just hope that we get through this part alive." Lance Storm grumbled.  
  
"Dude, after all the other shit that we went through, it would be twisted if we don't." Christian   
commented.  
  
The plane moved lower. The system came on for the second time in less than five minutes.   
"I see a landing strip!" the pilot announced proudly. "Now what do I do again?"  
  
"Oh goddamnit, give me that." The co-pilot said in exasperation.  
  
"No, I wanna drive!"  
  
"Just let me have the fucking controls before you get us all killed!!" a pause. "You moron, you   
turned the PA system on!"  
  
"Well it's really hard figuring out what all these switches do-" the captain was cut off as the system   
was hastily turned off.  
  
"If shit like that just hadn't happened for the entire flight, I would be really disturbed by now."   
Tazz commented.  
  
Let's revert back to thought reading for a while.  
  
'I need juice.' Rob Van Dam thought desperately.  
  
'I need to get away from this guy.' Michael Cole thought, looking nervously at Rob.  
  
'Smile! Think positive for the sake of the others.' DDP said, a smile frozen on his face that was   
beginning to make Tommy Dreamer uncomfortable.  
  
'That was expensive wine.' X-Pac brooded.  
  
'I wish these guys would just grow up.' Torrie thought as she groaned inwardly, looking at Tajiri   
and Billy Kidman glare at each other through the corners of her eyes.  
  
'I hate these pants.' Jericho contemplated glumly.  
  
'I bet Jericho hates those pants.' Trish thought, still with a triumphant grin on her face.  
  
'I don't see what's wrong with those pants.' Kurt Angle thought quizzically. 'I like those pants.'  
  
'I hope that son of mine hasn't done anything too stupid.' Ric Flair thought.  
  
'Shit, here's the fucking receipt for that repair I had on my bike.' Undertaker thought when he   
looked at the piece of paper he had slipped out of his pocket.  
  
'Jesus Christ, I really hope that's not Goldust's hand brushing up my leg!' Booker T thought in a   
panic as he looked down. 'Oh good, it's just his feather boa. Wait a minute, should I be   
relieved…?'  
  
Right, let's cut it right there.  
  
"Hey, I can see the landing strip from here too!" Al Snow said excitedly, peering out the window.   
"I never thought I'd be so happy to see solid ground."  
  
"I never thought I'd be so happy to hear something like that come from Al Snow's mouth, and   
not immediately think of a dumb joke to nail him with." Mick Foley said from the seat in front.  
  
The plane descended and kept on going, and for the passengers in that main cabin seeing the   
ground get bigger and closer was nothing short of a fucking miracle. They waited with bated   
breaths at the moment when the wheels would be lowered and hit the ground, ultimately coming   
to a complete stop.  
  
There was a rumble as the wheels were employed. They straightened and struck the ground,   
making the plane bounce into the air… for higher than it really should have gone. For a minute   
all of them had that sensation of leaving their stomachs in the air as they came crashing down   
after that huge jolt. The plane crashed back down onto its wheels, bounced the slightest bit and   
then came to a screeching halt right in front of the door of the airport.  
  
All of the passengers in the main cabin looked dumbly at each other for a moment, all of them   
wanting to collect their wits about them as they fathomed that they had actually touched down.  
  
The PA system switched on. "We've arrived at the airport." The pilot announced formally.   
"See? I told you we would bring you here in one piece."  
  
"You may unfasten your seatbelts and collect your baggage, then exit the plane in an orderly   
manner." The co-pilot said in a slightly bored voice. "The flight attendants would be happy to   
help you."  
  
Orderly? We think that all of them, in complete unison, simply thought, 'Screw that.'  
  
All at once every single one of them shot to their feet and started pulling their hand carry from   
under their chairs and overhead bins. There was absolute chaos as all of them resorted to   
pushing and shoving each other in their eagerness to get off the blasted plane.  
  
The doors opened and it was like salvation for all who stood before it. It was Rock who was   
the first one out. He left quickly, not daring to look back at Kurt, who stood with Billy and   
Chuck and was imploring for Rock to come back.  
  
"Damn, there he goes." Kurt said, disappointed.  
  
"Don't worry, Kurt, we can play games with just ourselves." Chuck said with a grin. "You, me,   
Billy and Rico back at the hotel."  
  
"Okay, that sounds like fun." Kurt said dumbly as the two of them led him out of the plane.   
"What games do you have at the hotel? Twister? Parcheesi? Monopoly?"  
  
"Think Twister." Billy said with a grin of his own.  
  
Fortunately for Kurt, the person right behind him was Jerry Lawler. King heard the conversation   
and shuddered, then decided to help the clueless guy out. He cleared his throat and grabbed   
Kurt by the arm. "Actually, boys, Kurt promised to help me screen some new talents." He said.   
"Right, Kurt?"  
  
"No I didn't." Kurt said dumbly.  
  
"Yes you did." King said, winking out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"No I didn't. And do you have something out of the corner of your eye?"  
  
King resisted the urge to slap a palm to his forehead. He sighed and smiled and Billy and   
Chuck. "Kurt, forgetful as usual, and such a kidder! But really, he's booked for today."  
  
"Oh, too bad." Billy said. "Maybe next time, Kurt?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess." Kurt said, still looking bewilderedly from King to Billy and Chuck.  
  
King watched Billy and Chuck leave with a relieved sigh. JR passed them. "Don't take that   
guy under your wing too much." He told King warningly, indicating Kurt.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll just show him some of the ropes." King said, patting Kurt's shoulder. "At   
least this way we'll be sure that if he's playing any 'games,' they'll be of a heterosexual nature."   
He grinned and led Kurt away.  
  
As they were leaving a hurrying Jericho passed by them. "Hey Chris," Kurt called, "You can   
return those pants to me at the arena."  
  
Jericho said nothing but flipped him the bird and continued on his way.  
  
"What is wrong with everybody today??" Kurt exclaimed in exasperation.  
  
King took him by the shoulders. "Kurt, I'm going to take you on a trip today that will open   
your eyes to everything you've blocked out in your adult life." He continued to talk as he and   
Kurt walked down the ramp to the airport.  
  
A bunch of superstars and other people filed past from the main cabin. Torrie, to the surprise   
of everybody, walked out chattering animatedly with a delighted Maven. Both Tajiri and Billy   
Kidman followed, sour looks on their faces. It seemed that she had gotten tired of their   
childish bickering and left with someone else. Tazz snickered as he walked out of the plane.  
  
With a huge smile on his face, Mr. Perfect strode out of the plant door with the ho that he   
and Val Venis had bet on. The girl herself looked less than enthusiastic, but was cheering   
herself up with the fact that it was only until they had reached the end of the ramp way.  
  
"Well, Venis." Perfect said haughtily, gesturing to his companion. "I guess I've won the bet."  
  
"I suppose you have." Th Big Valbowski said. He shrugged. "Well, all right. You get to call   
yourself the most perfect, in a sense, with women." He smiled then turned to the entrance.   
"Ladies?"   
  
Two smiling flight stewardesses stepped from the entrance. Val took one on each arm and   
turned to grin at Mr. Perfect. "You win. See you around." He gave a mock salute and left the   
plane.  
  
Perfect watched him go with an incredulous snarl on his face. Godfather passed by with his   
other ho at his side. "Hey, Hennig." He greeted with his smile. He waved the cash he held   
in his hand. "Time's up. It was a pleasure doing business with you." He took the ho who was   
with Perfect by the hand and led her away, waving to Perfect as he did.  
  
Perfect looked like he might explode, but he was jostled into moving by Rob Van Dam, who   
wanted out of there as soon as possible.  
  
"Lita! Hey Lita, wait!" a whistle. "Lita, over here!"  
  
Lita sighed as she hesitantly turned around. Matt and Jeff stopped as well, Matt looking on   
impatiently. "X-Pac, what do you want now?" Lita asked, annoyed.  
  
X-Pac stopped in front of her. "Listen, I know you acted like a bitch and totally overlooked the   
gift I sent you, but okay, no big deal, I forgive you." He said, oblivious to the fact that she was   
shooting him a look that radiated hatred. "But how about you make it up to me more with a   
night out at the town, huh? What do you say?"  
  
Lita looked at him for a moment, then swift as lightning kneed him in the balls. X-Pac's eyes   
bugged out and he let out a howl of pain, dropping his bag and almost crumbling to the floor,   
his hands in between his legs.  
  
Jeff burst out laughing, and was soon joined by Hulk Hogan, who had witnessed the event.   
Matt grinned, then put an arm around his girlfriend. "Come on, Matt, let's go." Lita said with   
a grin of her own. She waved sardonically at X-Pac as they left.  
  
X-Pac was trying to pick himself up when Kevin Nash strode out of the plane door, a catalep-  
tic Hall slung over his shoulder. "That is the last time I let him sit beside Stone Cold again, or   
vice versa." The big man muttered before making his way down the ramp.  
  
Big Show followed and saw X-Pac on the floor. He sighed and shook his head. "I tell you,   
man, you really need help with women." He said, reaching over and picking up X-Pac off the   
ground and hanging him over his shoulder like hand carry as well.  
  
"Jackie, I can't thank you enough." Kane was saying as he stepped out of the plane. "I don't   
think I would have been able to make it through the trip without you."  
  
"It was my pleasure." Jacqueline said with a smile. "I'd say you held out pretty well yourself."   
She said, lying through her teeth.  
  
Kane shrugged. "I think I'm on my way to recovery. Who knows? Maybe I can even make   
the next flight on my own."  
  
Jackie patted his arm. "Baby steps." She reminded him.  
  
"That's good news." A deep voice said behind them.  
  
Kane and Jackie turned to see the Undertaker step out of the plane. He adjusted his trench   
coat and spoke again. "The next show is in Canada. We'll have to take the plane again if we   
plan to make it there in time." He said to Kane, then left.  
  
"T-that soon?" Kane stammered.  
  
"Now, Kane, remember all that I told you…" Jackie said, grasping his arm as the Big Red   
Machine looked ready to hyperventilate right there and then.  
  
The pyro-technician who had sat beside Kane for the remainder of the flight came out and   
wrote something on a piece of paper. "Hey, here's the number for a good shrink." He said,   
giving it to Kane. "Try it, maybe he can help you."  
  
"Why do you have a number for a shrink?" Jackie asked him curiously.  
  
"He's not my shrink." He said defensively. "I got it from some of the guys who do backstage   
questioning during the shows. Seems like interviewing some of the superstars can leave you   
scarred, if you're not careful, for life."  
  
The three of them watched Jonathan Coachman and Kevin Kelly step out and make their   
way down the ramp.  
  
Kane nodded and clutched the scrap of paper. "Maybe I'll give the guy a try." He said.  
  
"It's done."  
  
Triple H looked quizzically at Foley, who was holding up a huge sheaf of papers as they stepped   
out of the plane door. "What's done?"  
  
"The first draft of my new manuscript." Foley said proudly, giving Triple H that gap-toothed   
smile of triumph. "And you know what, Hunter? I'm dedicating it to you."  
  
"What?" Triple H checked to see if Foley was pulling his leg, but the former commissioner   
was obviously serious. "Well, thanks, Mick, I appreciate it."  
  
"And you get to read it first and tell me what you think of it." Foley said, patting Triple H on   
the back and walking away. Al Snow snickered behind him as the Game stood and groaned.  
  
Finally it seemed that all of the wrestlers and other people had clambered out of the main   
cabin. The stewardess at the door gave a groan of relief and was about to shut the door   
when she was stopped by a fellow flight attendant. "Wait, there's one more in there." She   
told her.  
  
"What?" they both went back into the main cabin and found none other than Stone Cold Steve   
Austin, awake but still smashed, muttering incoherently to himself. They looked at each   
other.  
  
"What do we do?" one asked.  
  
The other shrugged. "I have no idea."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
They both turned to find a blonde, middle-aged but still attractive woman standing in the   
doorway of the plane. "I'm here to pick up my husband. He didn't get out of the plane so   
I asked to be let in and see if he's all right?"  
  
"Would that be him?" the stewardess pointed to Stone Cold.  
  
Debra looked and sighed. "Yes, that would be him." She walked over to the seat and the   
two flight attendants watched as she talked to him, managed to get him to stand up and   
finally led him shakily out of the plane.  
  
"Do you need help, ma'am?" one of the stewardesses asked.  
  
"No, I'm quite all right." Debra assured with a smile. "I'm used to it. Thank you for keeping   
an eye on him." She gave a slight wave, fumbled when Stone Cold leaned too heavily on her   
and then continued leading him down the ramp.  
  
"I tell you, I don't envy the wives of those guys, not one bit." One of the flight attendants   
said.  
  
"Me too." The other agreed, as the two of them shut the door.  
  
***  
  
Up in the cockpit, the pilot pulled off the headphones and sat back in the seat and sighed in   
content. "Well, we actually did it. Not bad for flying a plane first time."  
  
Her companion, the co-pilot, simply scowled at her. "Shut up, Pyper."  
  
"Oh, lighten up." Pyper said. "You know, that crash course in piloting wasn't half bad. And it   
really paid off." She said.  
  
"Pyper, I was the one who raised and landed the goddamn plane, admittedly shakily on both   
accounts but like I give a shit, not to mention fight for control of it when we were in the   
storm." Azrael said pointedly, taking off her headphones to glare at her. "All you did was   
flick on the auto-pilot switch."  
  
"It was a big switch." Pyper said, nodding for emphasis.  
  
Azrael groaned.  
  
"At least we get paid." Pyper said. "Fifty-fifty, right?"  
  
"No, seventy-thirty. And yes, the bigger half goes to me."  
  
"That's not fair!"  
  
"You should have thought about that before you let me do all the work." Azrael snapped.   
"And that included flying the plane was well as faking those resumes to get the job."  
  
"I wondered why we were picked highly out of all those professionals."  
  
"Aw, screw it. You want to go grab some coffee from Seattle's Best?"  
  
"Hell yeah, let's go.  
  
***  
  
  
Azrael: Oh yeah, we're done, we're done...  
  
Pyper: *Comes stalking back.* Hey, I was texting you like crazy. I thought THEY had gotten you! Why didn't you answer me??  
  
Azrael: First of all, who the hell are the THEY you're talking about?  
  
Pyper: *Talks in a high, squeaky voice like Cartman of South Park.* I don't know. We always say they when they kill Kenny.  
  
Azrael: *Sighs.* I got to get to you to stop drinking coffee, man.  
  
Pyper: Wait a minute, that's the end?  
  
Azrael: Hardly. We've got Authors' Notes coming at you guys. A little sign-off on behalf of us and this crazy fanfic. Nope, the madness won't stop just yet!!  
  
Pyper: It'll be the final chapter, we promise! See you then!! 


	9. Authors' Notes

Disclaimer: We own nothing. We owe nothing either, so we suppose it's all good.  
  
  
AUTHORS' NOTES  
  
"… and so I told Vince… *hic*… I told him that Ol' Stone Cold - WHAT? - wasn't going to stick   
around to see the best persona… *hic*… in wrestling history take a nosedive into… *hic*… washed-  
out land. Then I gave him the finger and hit the Stunner on him… *hic*… or was it the other way   
around? Whatever…"  
  
Azrael continued to sip her white chocolate iced latte and Pyper316 her Pepsi Twist as they   
patiently nodded after every statement Stone Cold made. Austin was stretched out on a chaise   
lounge near Azrael's computer in her section of the fanfiction world. At that moment he was   
happily popping open another can of beer. They hadn't originally brought him here so that they   
could play psychiatrist to him, but at that moment that was what they had turned out to be. But   
hell, it was better than doing nothing. So they listened.  
  
"And now he goes around and axes Debra… *hic*… she's got nothing to do with all this shit! Now   
tell me… *hic*… do you think that's fair??" he asked as he guzzled down another gulp.  
  
"No, of course not." Pyper said, shaking her head.  
  
Azrael simply took another sip and waited for Austin to pass out from intoxication.  
  
"… I'm not saying that what I did was right. But what in the hell… *hic*... would you have done   
if you felt that you were at the… *hic*… fucking end of your rope?"  
  
"Most probably what you did." Pyper replied, saying exactly all the things that she knew the Rattle-  
snake wanted to hear.  
  
"Life's a motherfucking hell hole, you know that? Hell, you're… *hic*… smart kids, you probably   
realized that by now. You know that it's a blistering cesspool of nothing but… *hic*… messed up   
situations and even more messed up people…" Austin ultimately trailed off and lost consciousness.  
  
Azrael raised an eyebrow as she looked over his slumped form on the chaise lounge. "I knew it   
was only a matter of time before it came down to this." She commented dryly.  
  
Pyper prodded his shoulder cautiously. "He's out cold." She announced with a sigh. "So much for   
talking him into coming back to the WWE. Vince is going to be disappointed that we failed."  
  
"Darn, that would have been another ten grand for us." Azrael groaned. She glared accusingly   
at Pyper. "This probably wouldn't have happened if you hadn't suggested that we give him beer   
from the start."  
  
"I thought it would make him comfortable!" Pyper defended herself. "I didn't know that it would   
make him THIS comfortable!!"  
  
Azrael sighed again and waved it off. "Eh, what's done is done anyway, it can't be helped. The   
question now is what in the hell do we do with him?"  
  
"We can get someone to move him, I guess."  
  
"Great idea. You go find that someone."  
  
"Huh? Why me?" Pyper complained.  
  
"Because you suggested it."  
  
Grumbling to herself, Pyper stood up and walked off, leaving momentarily to find someone she   
could manipulate or blackmail into helping them out.  
  
Azrael, in the meantime, was given no peace of mind as the moment Pyper was out of sight she   
heard someone clear his or her throat impatiently behind her. Annoyed, she swiveled her chair   
around.  
  
"All right, Israel, we have to talk." Chris Jericho said sharply the moment she looked at him.  
  
"Do I look like a fucking country to you?" she snapped at him.  
  
"With the way you eat, you'll grow big enough to be called on in three months, tops." Jericho r  
etorted.  
  
Azrael colored and put down her iced latte. "All right, I'm a pig, point taken." She said crossly.   
"Now what do you want??"  
  
"Simple." Jericho said as he moved over to sit on the chaise lounge. "I want to know… WHOLLY   
CRAP!" he exclaimed, when he saw the settee's occupant. "What in the hell is he doing here??"  
  
"That's beside the point, but if you must know he passed out after one too many of these." Azrael   
said, holding up an empty can of beer. She shot it into the already full trashcan, so in effect she   
just succeeded in knocking a few cans out of it. Azrael sighed.  
  
Jericho made a noise of disgust. "This guy's got to quit drinking."  
  
"Try telling that to him." Azrael commented, standing up.  
  
"Hey Azrael, I'm back. I don't know if you'll take this as good news, but…" a returning Pyper cut   
herself off in mid-sentence when she saw who Azrael was standing with.  
  
"Oh shit." Azrael muttered.  
  
Pyper let out an ungodly shriek of delight and zipped towards them. "CHIRS   
JERICHOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!" she called out, running for him with her arms wide open. Before she   
could actually glomp his arm or any other accessible part of his body, Azrael's hand shot forward   
and grabbed her by the back of her collar.  
  
"Pyper…" Azrael said in a warning tone.  
  
"Let me go… must get to Jericho…" Pyper whimpered, straining against Azrael's grip. Her finger-  
tips were flailing inches away from a stunned Chris Jericho. "Must give him hug… it's Jericho…"  
  
"Oh, shit." Jericho echoed.  
  
"Pyper." Azrael repeated, more firmly this time. "I thought we talked about this? If you have   
any more Jericho-induced hysterical outbursts, the nice men in white coats will take you away   
in a straightjacket. Do you want that to happen?"  
  
"No." Pyper said meekly, ceasing her struggles.  
  
Jericho lifted his head and looked behind them. "Hey Azrael, I think she brought company."   
He suddenly said with a snicker.  
  
Azrael turned, then looked up. Two incredibly large and almost identical men looked back at   
her. She cleared her throat. "May I help you?"  
  
"You Azrael?" one of them asked. When she nodded, he spoke again. "She told us that there   
would be some money in it for us if we helped you out." He said, indicating Pyper. "She better   
not have been lying." He followed up dangerously.  
  
Azrael looked at Pyper. "Was there something you wanted to tell me?"  
  
Pyper grinned. "Oh yeah. I believe you know Rose and Jamal. They're the ones I managed to   
sucker… I mean, get to help us with our little Rattlesnake problem."  
  
"For a fee." Jamal, the one who had spoken earlier, cut in.  
  
"Right, whatever." Azrael said. "You two want to add in a couple of more bucks? Hold this for   
me." She pushed Pyper over to them, and they held her back willingly enough.  
  
Jericho waited for her to turn back to him before resuming their conversation. "All right, back   
to what I was saying." He said, making her groan. "Whose brilliant idea was it to make Trish   
Stratus spill freezing cold mango juice all over my pants??"  
  
"Oh, that." Azrael said disinterestedly. "You'll have to take that up with deadgirlwalking8. "It   
was her idea, I just used it."  
  
"I think I will." Jericho growled. "And how about putting me in Kurt's stupid pants?"  
  
"That would be me." Azrael said, taking her seat again.  
  
"Have you some pathetic mission in life to make me miserable??" Jericho demanded. He turned   
to Pyper. "You, you're a Jerichoholic. Why didn't you stop her??"  
  
"She wrote it and posted it behind my back, I swear!" Pyper burst out. "I'll do anything to make   
it up to you! Want me to kill her for you? I can do that." She said eagerly.  
  
"Pyper, the nice men in white are one call away." Azrael said calmly.  
  
"I'll be quiet." Pyper said quickly. Rose and Jamal exchanged disturbed looks.  
  
Jericho turned back to glaring at Azrael. She sighed. "Look, just be glad that I didn't go with   
my original idea of hooking you and Trish up together."  
  
Jericho made a gagging noise. "God forbid. What made you change your mind?"  
  
Azrael went back to sipping her drink. "I thought about it and realized that if I did do it, I would   
be clobbered by Pyper, a bunch of female Jerichoholics and every Smoochy Dreamer fan in   
existence."  
  
"Amen." Pyper nodded her head."  
  
"Smoochy Dreamers? Wait a minute, that sounds familiar…" Jericho pondered.  
  
"Now, if I've answered all your questions, I'd like to ask you to leave now." Azrael told Jericho,   
tapping him on the leg.  
  
Jericho snapped out of his thoughts. "Are you giving me an order, Ariadne?" he sneered. "Because   
I don't respond too well to those. Listen, Y2J does what he likes and comes and goes as he pleases,   
you got that?"  
  
"Oh, so you're talking in third person like the Rock now?" Azrael said dryly.  
  
"I think it's adorable." Pyper said dreamily.  
  
Azrael rolled her eyes, but then an evil smile crossed her face. Jericho didn't like the look of it,   
but he succeeded in feigning that it didn't get to him. Azrael addressed him. "Then let me re-  
phrase that. If you don't get your ass out of my workspace, I'll set her loose on you." She said,   
cocking her head towards Pyper.  
  
"Really??!" Pyper asked enthusiastically.  
  
Jericho's eyes widened. "You wouldn't…"  
  
"Oh, wouldn't I? Gentlemen, you can let her go now." She said to Rose and Jamal, all the while   
still smiling at Jericho.  
  
He Island Boys shrugged, then let go of Pyper and stepped away. Pyper let out of another   
semi-mad shriek of glee and tore off in Jericho's direction. Jericho, in turn, gave a scream of   
his own and raced off into the distance, Pyper close at his heels.  
  
Azrael watched them go for a moment before turning her attention back to Rose and Jamal.   
"Well, now that's settle, let's get to business." She pointed to Stone Cold on the chaise lounge.   
He had remained blissfully asleep and had even started to snore. "Transfer him out of here,   
please. To the arena, to his truck, to Debra, I don't care. Anywhere but here."  
  
"Could you be more vague?" Rose asked sarcastically.  
  
"Could you take any longer?" Azrael snapped. "Just do it, now. We'll talk about the pay after."  
  
"Why after?" Jamal almost whined.  
  
"Whoever heard of being paid before the job was done?" Azrael reasoned.  
  
Grumbling, the two men walked over to the sofa and on the count of three heave the unconscious   
Stone Cold Steve Austin onto their shoulders. "The momeny better be here when we get back."   
Rose said in a gruff voice.  
  
"Mm-hmm." Azrael said neutrally, looking at her nails. She waved them away and they left in   
the opposite direction that Jericho and Pyper had gone off to.  
  
It was quiet again for a while, then a loud voice broke through the silence. "AZRAEL!!"  
  
Azrael jumped and turned, but quickly relaxed when she saw the smiling redhead make her way   
to the place. She smiled herself and waved her over. "Lita!"  
  
Lita reached her and sat down on the arm of the vacated chaise lounge. "Hey, took me nearly   
forever to find this place! But I've got everything right…" Lita trailed off as she caught sight of   
the mess around. "Why are there beer cans all over the place?" she finally asked.  
"Austin was here." Azrael said simply.  
  
"That explains a lot."  
  
"That neck brace doesn't hurt, does it?" Azrael asked, not being able to resist bringing it up.  
  
Lita brought a hand up to her neck to touch it. "Not so much as uncomfortable." She said with   
a sigh. "I can't get used to it, but it's not like I want to, anyway." Her face brightened up as   
she changed the subject. "Well, back to what I was saying." She pulled out an envelope from   
her back pocket. "I've got all the pictures, right here." She handed them to Azrael.  
  
Azrael burst out laughing the moment she saw the first one. "Girl, I definitely have to have a   
copy of this." She said, holding up the one of Jeff snuggling up to Matt.  
  
Lita grinned. "That's one of the more popular ones."  
  
Disappointed mumbling interrupted the two girls. They looked up to see Pyper sullenly making   
her way over to them. "He got away." She announced tearfully to them as she flopped down   
to the floor.  
  
"Who got away?" Lita asked with an amused expression on her face.  
  
"Jericho." Pyper said mournfully. "The only thing I managed to get from him was this." She   
produced a torn scrap of clothing that Azrael realized had been part of Jericho's shirt.  
  
"Jesus Christ, Pyper, I should turn you over to the pound as a rabid dog." Azrael told her bluntly.  
  
"Cheer up, Pyper." Lita said, noticing that Pyper's glum expression didn't change, even after   
Azrael's insult. "Here, I've got something here that I know you'll like." She picked out a picture   
from the stack that Azrael had been holding and handed it to Pyper.  
  
Pyper looked at it. "It's Jericho in Kurt Angle's dorky pants." She said. A tiny smile lifted up the   
corners of her mouth. "He really did look dumb in those. Don't tell him I said that!" she said   
immediately to Azrael, who looked innocently back at her.  
  
"It gets better." Lita told her with a wide grin. "Jericho thinks that I burned all my copies of   
that. He doesn't know about this one. Next time you see him, you can blackmail him with it   
to get him to stick around."  
  
Pyper gave a squeal of delight and threw her arms around Lita. "Ohmigosh, Lita, thank you!!   
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you so much!! You're a genius!!"  
  
"I love it when people call me that." Lita said with a grin as Pyper finally let her go.  
  
"A-ha! Citizens Azrael and Pyper!"  
  
"Oh dear Lord." Azrael groaned.  
  
"Oh come on, the Hurricane's not so bad." Pyper defended, seeing the green superhero-  
wannabe come walking towards them.  
  
"Maybe, but I could have done without him right now." Azrael complained.  
  
The Hurricane strutted up to them, then stopped and struck a pose, something all three girls   
had a feeling he didn't intend to do. Force of habit, they supposed. "Hello, ladies." He greeted   
them.  
  
"Great, now he thinks he's Val Venis." Azrael muttered.  
  
"Did he say it like he was a former porn star?" Lita hissed at her. "Let the guy talk."  
  
"It has come to my attention that you two, Pyper and Azrael, were the pilot and co-pilot of   
our flight respectively, is that right?" Hurricane asked.  
  
"That would be correct." Pyper answered.  
  
Hurricane was about to continue when he looked around suspiciously. "Have you all been drink-  
ing?" he asked, surveying the area."  
  
"Austin was here." Lita said, repeating Azrael's statement from earlier.  
  
"Oh." Hurricane said.  
  
"So what's up?" Pyper asked.  
  
"I'm here as a representative of a majority of WWE superstars to let you know that we did not   
feel that the both of you were equally qualified to fly that plane and henceforth put our lives in   
serious jeopardy." Hurricane said in one breath.  
  
"In other words, you are the sucker whom everybody else got to send their complaints through."   
Azrael said in a bored voice.  
  
Hurricane thought about it. "That's may be another way to put it."  
  
Azrael sighed and sat back. "Well, bring it on."  
  
The Hurricane pulled out a roll of paper from his pocket and rolled it out. At its full length the   
bottom part hit the floor and both Azrael and Pyper gave collective groans while Lita laughed.  
  
"On second thought, just the first five." Azrael said, rubbing her temples.  
  
"But what about the others?" he asked.  
  
"Have them send it to us via e-mail." Azrael replied, with every intention of deleting them and   
claiming that they never got it.  
  
Hurricane, not knowing this, nodded and began to read. "First off, Rikishi wants to know how you   
got it into your head to get him stuck in an airplane toilet stall."  
  
"I heard a comedian joke about it once, a pretty big guy himself." Azrael said to him, looking up   
into the ceiling as she spoke, trying to remember. "I forgot his name, though. It was so long   
ago. Next."  
  
"The Rock never wants to be around Kurt ever again."  
  
"Too bad, he's slated to get stuck with him again in both The Two Turnbuckles and The Return   
of the Game." Azrael replied. She turned to Lita. "Oh, and you'll be in those two stories too."  
  
"Ah, finally." Lita grinned. "I was wondering when you'd actually put me in there."  
  
"Stephanie McMahon demands an official apology for the rumble that happened between her   
and David Flair in the executive suite." Hurricane continued. "On that same note, David Flair   
says that he enjoyed the experience, but would not want to go through that, expletive, again."  
  
"Expletive?" Lita echoed.  
  
"Dude, this isn't a non-swearing section. Feel free to cuss anytime." Azrael said.  
  
"Wait, Stephanie wants an apology?" Pyper asked incredulously. "Are you kidding me? She was   
the one who started the fight!"  
  
"And if she still insists upon it, tell her that she can kiss my expletive." Azrael said. "Next."  
  
Hurricane shook his head, but continued. "William Regal wants all that the APA took from him   
back."  
  
Pyper snickered. "Then he can go and ask the APA for it himself. I'm sure they'd be happy to   
entertain his questions. Unless he's stupid enough to get himself into another game to try and   
win back all of it."  
  
"Next." Azrael and Lita said at the next time.  
  
Before Hurricane could get to the fifth and final item, allowed, at least, more voices floated   
over to their group. All four of them looked up to see the red and enraged faces of Rose and   
Jamal.  
  
Azrael swiveled around in her chair to face them. "Messrs. Rose and Jamal." She greeted with   
mock politeness. "I assume the job has been done?"  
  
"See? She's smiling at us!" Rose said, pointing at a suddenly bewildered Azrael. "You set us up,   
didn't you??"  
  
"What the hell are they talking about?" Lita asked.  
  
"The blasted motherfucker woke up, okay?" Jamal snapped irritably. "For a drunk guy, he   
can still put up a pretty decent fight."  
  
Azrael choked back laughter. "I had them take the then unconscious Stone Cold away." She   
explained to Lita and the Hurricane.  
  
"I see." Hurricane said, while Lita snickered.  
  
"So what did you do with Austin?" Pyper asked.  
  
"We thought about fighting back." Rose said sorely. "But then Debra showed up and started   
screaming her blonde head off for the police. Something about us beating him up. Jesus."   
He shook his head.  
  
"So here's our fee." Jamal inserted before either Pyper or Azrael could say anything. "$1700.   
Two hundred for holding Pyper back for you earlier, five for transporting Stone Cold Steve   
Austin away, and a grand flat for putting up with shit that wasn't supposed to happen!"  
  
"$1700?? That's crazy!" Lita exclaimed.  
  
"Yeah, especially when restraining me only cost two hundred bucks!" Pyper cried out. "I went   
up to as far as nine hundred the last time!"  
  
"A misunderstanding between her and the members of N'Sync." Azrael said to Hurricane and   
Lita. "You don't want me to elaborate, trust me."  
  
"Well?" Rose asked impatiently. "Show us the money!"  
  
"The figure is more than a little steep, citizens." Hurricane said to the two of them. "I suggest   
that the both of you and Azrael sit down and consult with each other to come up with a sum   
that both parties can agree on."  
  
"Or what?" Rose mocked. "You'll chokeslam us?" he and Jamal laughed.  
  
"What do you stand to lose?" Hurricane pointed out.  
  
"$1600 of their original sum, for one." Azrael spoke up. "I only have a hundred bucks with me."  
  
"WHAT?" Jamal exclaimed.  
  
"Listen up, we're not asking to receive $1700 for our services, we're demanding it." Rose told   
her brusquely. "So fork over the money, little girl!"  
  
Hurricane stepped forward, but Azrael stopped him. She gave a woeful smile. "What a pity,   
gentlemen, I was so hoping to get along. But since you're both determined to make things   
difficult, I'm going to have to get nasty myself. Pyper? Do the honors?"  
  
"Way ahead of you, Azrael." Pyper said with a mischievous smile. She had gotten up and opened   
a panel of switches on the desk. She pressed the third red button.  
  
The sound of heavy footsteps approached, and Rose and Jamal turned to see Bradshaw and   
Faarooq walking towards them, cracking their knuckles.  
  
"How about one more for old times, Faarooq?" Bradshaw asked.  
  
"I'm game." Faarooq answered.  
  
"Oh hell no." Rose groaned. He and Jamal turned and ran, both Faarooq and Bradshaw in hot   
pursuit. The two Island Boys shouted back threats of revenge over their shoulders as they ran.  
  
"Well that was easy." Pyper commented.  
  
Hurricane looked up, than at the fifth item on his list and cleared his throat. "Citizen Lita,   
I think you should leave now."  
  
"Why?" Lita asked indignantly.  
  
"Yeah, you haven't read the fifth complaint yet." Pyper said. Not that she was looking forward   
to it.  
  
"I think the fifth complaint got impatient and decided to present itself." Hurricane said,   
pointing into the distance. The girls turned and saw two figures headed over to them.  
  
"Is that who I think it is?" Pyper asked, squinting.  
  
"Yeah, Brock Lesnar and the wart on his ass known as Paul Heyman." Lita said dryly, standing   
up.  
  
"Oh goodie." Azrael said dryly.  
  
"I think that Hurricane's right." Lita said. "I have to get out of here. But before I go…" she   
plucked another picture from the stack and handed it to the superhero. "Here you go, this is   
for you."  
  
"It's Test reading over my shoulder." Hurricane said.  
  
"It was funny." Lita said.  
  
"Come on guys, get a move on." Pyper urged. "They're getting closer."  
  
"Hang on, Citizen Pyper, it was Lita I suggested leave, not me." Hurricane said. "I think that   
maybe I should stay…" he started, but Azrael cut him off.  
  
"We'll be fine." She insisted. "This is my realm. No one can touch me here." She looked at worried   
Pyper. "Yes, you too, Pyper."  
  
"But…" Hurricane was interrupted by Lita this time.  
  
"See you guys! I'll get the copies to you by next week!!" Lita called, waving as she half-dragged   
the Hurricane away. "They will be fine, you heard it directly from them." She was heard ad-  
monishing him as they left. "Now come on, as much as I'd like to see the two of them get some-  
one to beat the living hell out of those two, I so do not want to be at the same place as Paul   
Heyman is…"  
  
They were almost a spot in the distance when Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman finally reached   
Pyper and Azrael. Azrael remained seated, and Pyper hopped onto the chaise lounge to sit on   
the backrest, her feet on the seat.  
  
"Was that Lita?" Heyman immediately asked, straining to see into the distance.  
  
"Yes." Azrael answered flatly. "She couldn't stick around, though."  
  
"Well, the neck brace cuts the sex appeal in half anyway." Paul said with a shrug. Pyper and   
Azrael narrowed their eyes, both seriously wanting to deck him right there and then.  
  
"May we help you?" Azrael asked coldly.  
  
"Yeah, I've got a big question for you." Paul started. "How come you don't give Brock proper   
exposure in your stories?? This is the Next Big Thing here! He's single-handedly destroyed all the   
opponents who've crossed his path! He's…"  
  
Azrael and Pyper sat back, letting him talk while they sported bored looks on their faces.  
  
After a while even Brock seemed to get tired of Heyman's endless blabber and cut him off with   
a wave of his hand. "Paul, let me do this." He said.  
  
"Hey, sure, whatever you want." Paul said, taking the smallest step back.  
  
Brock looked at the two of them. "Over thirty thousand words in this story and I was devoted   
less of it than Spike Dudley was. Now what I want to know is why." He said with a grim face,   
looming up over the both of them.  
  
Azrael and Pyper looked at him, then at each other, then back at him. "Why, were we in any   
way obligated to give you a bigger part?" Azrael asked.  
  
"Frankly, we don't like you, even less since you won the King of the Ring and Jericho or RVD   
didn't. And the fact that although you're an impressively strong guy we think you've been given   
over-exposure on WWE TV enough." Pyper said.  
  
"At this point, we can't think of an interesting story line that would include you, or Heyman."   
Azrael said, looking pointedly at Paul. "So if you don't mind, we were about set to leave as well."  
  
Paul started to blubber. Lesnar stopped him from saying anything again. Brock looked down con-  
temptuously at them. "Well how about I sit you both down and get you to re-write some of those   
scenes?" he said in a low, dangerous voice.  
  
"Undertaker tried that with me." Azrael said with a shrug. "Needless to say, it didn't work."  
  
"Azrael, he chased you away from this place on his motorcycle." Pyper reminded.  
  
She turned sharply to her. "They didn't need to know that!"  
  
"That's my line." Pyper said.  
  
"I'm afraid that this is the end of this conversation, gentlemen." Azrael said. She reached over and hit   
the first red button the panel on her desk.  
  
For a moment it seemed that nothing had happened. Paul snickered and was about to mouth off   
to the two authors when a yell sounded and Brock Lesnar turned around to receive one hell of a   
spear by the newcomer. This was followed up with a jackhammer that put the big guy down for   
the count.  
  
"Wholly shit!!" Paul Heyman cried, backing away.  
  
Bill Goldberg smirked down at him. He took a threatening step forward so that he was glaring right   
down at Heyman. "Boo."  
  
Heyman screamed and ran off, forgetting completely about Brock Lesnar.  
  
Pyper laughed as she watched him go. She and Azrael walked up to stand on either side of Gold-  
berg. "I'm so glad you're on our side." Pyper said, patting his arm.  
  
"I'm glad to be on your side too." Goldberg said with a laugh.  
  
"What do we do with him?" Pyper suddenly asked, looking down at Brock.  
  
"Second unconscious wrestler today. Must be some sort of twisted record." Azrael said with a sigh.   
She took out her cellphone. "I'll get someone to get him out of here, and clean this mess up in the   
process."  
  
The three of them started to walk away from the area, Pyper stepping over Brock's body as they   
did so. "So, want to join us? We were just about to grab lunch over at this new Chinese   
restaurant."  
  
"Hey, sounds good." Goldberg said, grinning.  
  
"Oh yeah, and when we do, we might as well have a teeny, tiny little conversation concerning what   
you mean by definitely wrestling before the year ended…" Azrael said, as she lifted the phone to   
her ear.  
  
They walked away from the area and Brock, who had started to stir the slightest bit. And that is   
the end of our notes.  
  
***  
  
  
Man, it's been one really long and crazy ride but we've finally reached the end. We have really   
enjoyed doing this story, and we're happy that so many of you liked it as well. Liked it enough   
to tell us to continue it when we were going through a dry spell even. We'll definitely have to think   
about doing a sequel, though... This first one was crazy (not to mention long) enough.   
  
Oh, and we don't know who exactly made up the name Smoochy Dreamers, or how it came around,   
but it just poppedi nto our heads when we were doing this chapter. Whoever did come up with it,   
we hope you didn't mind us using it for the moment!  
  
Once again, thank you so much for reading and reviewing!  
  
- aZrAeL and Pyper316 


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